LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 

SAN  DIEQO 


THE    GREATEST    GIFT 


THE 
GREATEST   GIFT 


BY 

A.  W.    MARCHMONT 

Author  of  "  By  Right  of  Sword,"  "  A  Dash  for  the  Throne,"  etc.,  etc 


NEW  YORK 

F.  M.  BUCKLES    &    COMPANY 

9  AND  ii    EAST  1 6-TH  STREET 

LONDON  — HUTCHINSON    &    CO 

1900 


Copyright  1899 

by 
F.  M.  BUCKWSS  &  COMPANY 


The  Greatest  Gift 


THE  GREATEST  GIFT. 


"  The  greatest  gift, 
A  woman's  heart ;  the  heart  of  her  I  loved." 

PROLOGUE. 
I. 

THE  mid-day  express  was  tearing  northward  at  full 
speed  through  the  gusts  and  squalls  of  a  boisterous 
March  day,  and  the  carriages,  lightly  laden,  jerked  and 
swayed  after  the  panting,  screeching  engine. 

The  occupant  of  one  of  the  compartments,  despite  the 
rocking  of  the  carriage,  was  walking  from  side  to  side 
in  evident  impatience.  He  was  a  tall,  broad,  good- 
looking  man  in  the  early  thirties,  and  his  bronzed  face 
and  sailor-cut  clothes  told  his  occupation  at  a  glance. 

On  the  seat  opposite  to  that  on  which  he  had  been 
sitting  so  long  as  he  could  keep  still  lay  a  letter  and  a 
telegram,  both  open  ;  and,  as  his  eyes  fell  on  them 
from  time  to  time  in  his  walk,  an  expression  alternately 
of  intense  pleasure  and  of  pained  anxiety  came  over 
his  comely  face. 

"  Six  thousand  a  year,  and  probably  ten  !  Phew  !  " 
and  he  whistled  as  if  to  relieve  his  feelings.  "  It  almost 
takes  a  man's  breath  away — especially  when  the  man's 

7 


8  £be  Greatest  (Sift 

had  bother  enough  to  make  as  many  hundreds.  How 
the  lassie's  eyes  will  dance  at  the  news  !  God  bless 
her  !  And  what  a  light  there'll  be  on  her  face — dear 
heart  !  It's  good  to  have  a  wife  to  tell  news  like  this 
to.  Six  thousand — probably  ten  !  I  must  read  the 
letter  again." 

Then,  with  a  gesture  that  might  have  been  con- 
strued as  half-apologetic,  had  any  one  else  been  pres- 
ent, he  picked  up  the  letter  and  read  it. 

310,  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields, 
London,  W.  C. 
March  ioth,  186 — 
Captain  John  Drury, 
s.s.  Madeira, 

c,'o  Indian  Pacific  Co., 
Gracechurch  Street,  E.  C. 

"DEAR  SIR, — Can  you  see  us  immediately  upon 
your  arrival,  as  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance  that 
we  should  have  an  interview  without  delay  ? 

"We  may  say  that  in  accordance  with  your  instruc- 
tions we  have  had  the  borings  completed  on  both  es- 
tates during  your  voyage,  and  the  results  have  proved 
satisfactory  beyond  all  anticipations.  There  is  every 
reason  to  say  that  the  properties  will  yield  an  annual 
return  of  at  least  six  to  seven  thousand  pounds  (,£6,000 
to  £7,000)  per  annum,  and  probably  ten  thousand 
(£10,000).  We  have  indeed  already  had  offers  ap- 
proaching closely  the  smaller  sum  we  had  named. 

"There  are  certain  formalities  and  arrangements 
which  must  await  your  arrival,  and  some  of  them 
ought  to  be  forthwith  completed.  The  sooner  they 


Ube  Greatest  Gift.  9 

are  settled  the  better.     Hence  our  urgent  request  for 
an  immediate  call  from  you. — Yours  truly, 

' '  STERN  &  SHAPCOTT." 

"Sorry  I  hadn't  time  to  call.  Should  like  to  have 
had  all  the  particulars  to  take  down  to  Hattie.  How 
full  of  curiosity  the  little  woman  will  be  !  But  I  could 
not  delay  even  a  train  in  the  face  of  this. " 

Here  his  face  clouded,  and  the  pleased  look  gave 
way  to  a  puzzled,  anxious  expression,  as  he  laid  down 
the  letter  and  picked  up  the  telegram. 

"  What  can  it  mean,  I  wonder?  Can't  be  thatany- 
thing's  wrong  with  our  boy  ?  " 

"Come  home  the  moment  you  reach  England.  I 
fear  trouble.  Most  urgent. — RACHEL  PATMORE." 

"Why  on  earth  didn't  the  good  old  soul  say  more — 
or  less  ?  What  trouble  can  she  mean  ?  Can't  be  with 
the  wife  or  Godfrey  ?  Surely  she'd  have  said  some- 
thing. God  keep  them  both  safe !  Well,  they've  got 
my  wire  before  this,  and  I  shall  soon  be  home  now, 
though  this  confounded  train  seems  to  crawl.  It's  a 
grand  thing  to  be  home — ay,  and  a  grander  never  to 
have  to  leave  my  darlings  again  1  " 

Then  he  recommenced  pacing  from  side  to  side  of 
the  carriage,  thinking  of  the  contents  of  the  letters,  and 
full  of  an  intense  longing  to  reach  home. 

By  and  by  he  let  down  the  window  with  a  joyful  ex- 
clamation, noting  a  landmark  that  he  knew  well ;  and 
he  thrust  out  his  head  and  shoulders  and  drew  in  deep 
breaths  of  the  air,  as  if  he  would  steep  his  senses  in 
the  subtle  promise  of  home. 


10  ttbe  Greatest  <3fft 

"  I  can  scent  the  dear  old  hills  !  "  he  cried  to  him- 
self, as  he  drew  in  his  head  and  wiped  the  shower- 
drops  from  his  face  and  beard,  laughing-  a  deep- 
chested  laugh  of  delight  the  while. 

Soon  the  train  began  to  slacken  speed,  and  he  put 
together  hastily  his  hand  luggage,  and  then  thrust  his 
head  out  again  to  feed  his  eyes  upon  the  sight  of  the 
little  northern  town,  which  was  always  in  his  thoughts 
when  he  was  on  his  voyages  ;  and  he  tried  to  make 
out  through  the  driving  mist  his  home  where  it  nestled 
on  the  hillside  to  the  east  of  the  town. 

A  sense  of  disappointment  touched  him  for  a  mo- 
ment as  the  train  stopped  at  the  platform  and  he  saw 
no  one  there  to  meet  him.  In  some  way  he  had  pic- 
tured the  dull,  commonplace  station  as  the  background 
for  the  bright,  love-lit  face  of  his  wife  when  she 
should  welcome  him  with  that  happy,  radiant  smile 
which  his  thoughts  had  never  wearied  of  conjuring  up. 
He  was  thus  disappointed  at  not  seeing  her.  More- 
over, the  fact  that  no  one  met  him  added  to  the  anx- 
ious doubts  which  the  telegram  had  roused. 

Then  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  the  people  were  getting 
out  of  his  way.  Every  one  knew  John  Drury,  and 
every  one  loved  his  cheery,  breezy,  honest,  sturdy 
English  ways.  .  But  now  everybody  seemed  to  be  too 
busy  to  notice  him. 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,"  he  said  to  himself.  "As  if  you 
thought  everybody  ought  to  leave  their  work  just  be- 
cause you've  come  home!  You're  a  nice  selfish  fel- 
low." 

But  he  did  not  succeed  in  rallying  himself.  He 
passed  out  of  the  station  and  jumped  into  the  nearest 


Ube  Greatest  Gift.  n 

fly,  telling  the  man,  who  was  by  chance  a  stranger  to 
him,  to  drive  as  quickly  as  possible. 

He  was  very  restless  during  the  drive,  and  kept 
thrusting  out  his  head  first  from  one  window  and  then 
from  the  other,  despite  the  now  heavily  falling  rain. 

When  the  fly  reached  the  house  his  impatience  drove 
him  to  jump  out  and  walk  quickly  through  the  small 
garden,  wondering  where  everybody  was.  As  he 
reached  the  door,  an  old  woman  dressed  in  black  met 
him. 

"Well,  Rachel/' he  said,  trying  to  speak  cheerfully, 
though  he  felt  startled  by  the  woman's  look.  ' '  This  is 
a  nice  sort  of  welcome  for  a  man  who's  fresh  from  the 
other  side  of  the  world.  Where  are  my  darlings  ?  I 
have  such  splendid  news  for  them." 

The  woman,  with  the  familiarity  of  an  old  servant, 
laid  a  detaining  hand  on  his  arm  as  he  was  passing 
into  the  house.  Then,  as  she  looked  into  his  face,  her 
own  eyes  held  gathered  tears,  and  her  lips  trembled 
when  she  tried  to  speak. 

"Why,  Rachel,  my  dear  old  friend,"  said  John  Drury 
kindly,  "what's  your  trouble?  What  has  happened 
to  you  ? " 

"The  Lord  be  guid  to  ye,  Maister  John.  Gether 
your  wuts  and  your  courage  weel  in  hand,  for  it's 
wantin'  them  baith  ye'll  be  the  day.  Nay,  ye  mauna 
gae  in  a  minute  till  I  tell  ye.  I've  been  speerin'  for 
ye  these  twa  hours,  ever  sin'  the  message  came.  And 
now  I  darena  tell  it  ye  ;  the  Lord  help  us  all." 

"Come,  Rachel ;  what  is  it  ?  "  said  John  Drury,  his 
voice  firm,  though  his  cheek  paled  at  the  other's  words. 
"Is  aught  wrong  with  Hattie  or  the  bairn  ?  " 


12  Ube  Greatest  Gift 

The  old  woman  looked  at  him  for  a  minute  sorrow- 
fully and  in  silence,  the  tears  which  had  gathered 
rolling'  down  her  cheeks. 

"It's  a  mournfu',  sorrowin' house  ye've  comeback 
to,  Maister  John  ;  and  that's  the  truth." 

"  There's  no  one — dead  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Nay,  not  dead;  but  it's  waur  than  that — it's  waur 
than  that,"  said  the  woman. 

"Worse?"  cried  John  Drury,  starting.  "Worse? 
What  do  you  mean  ?  "  And  in  his  agitation  he  gripped 
the  other's  arm  so  hard  that  he  pained  her. 

"  Ay,  waur,"  repeated  the  woman,  shaking  her  head 
slowly  from  side  to  side.  "  Ye  need  be  the  braw  lad 
that  ye  are,  John  Drury,  for  the  hand  o'  the  Lord  has 
fallen  heavy  on  ye  the  day.  Madness  is  waur  than 
death,  and  crippled  life  than  death,  either,"  concluded 
the  woman  sententiously. 

"For  God's  sake  speak  plainly,  Rachel !  "  cried  the 
man. 

"Ay,  that  will  I,  for  ye  maun  ken  it  soon  or  late — 
better  soon.  The  wife  has  lost  her  reason,  Maister 
John,  and  in  her  daftness  has  nearly  killed  the  bairn — 
doin'  waur  ;  cripplin'  the  wee  laddie  for  a'  his  life." 

The  man  stared  hard  into  the  other's  face,  as  if  scarce 
understanding  her  words,  and  then  said,  "Let  me  go 
and  see  them."  And  the  change  in  his  tone  alarmed 
the  woman  more  than  any  great  outbreak  of  excited 
feeling  would  have  done. 

They  went  into  the  house,  the  woman  leading,  and 
passed  up  the  staircase. 

The  wife  lay  in  a  heavy  stupor,  with  two  women  in 
close  attendance  ;  and  John  Drury  stood  by  the  bed- 


Ube  Greatest  (Btft.  is 

side  in  silent,  awful  anguish,  till  he  could  endure  the 
sight  no  longer,  nor  bear  the  pain  of  the  thoughts 
which  it  roused. 

"The  bairn  ?  "  he  said,  turning  to  the  old  woman. 

She  led  him  to  another  room  where  the  doctor  had 
just  completed  a  second  examination.  The  child  was 
unconscious,  and  lay  swathed  in  bandages. 

"  How  did  it  happen?"  asked  the  wretched  man, 
still  unnaturally  calm  in  manner. 

The  old  nurse  told  him  in  broken  terms  how  she  had 
had  fears  for  some  time  for  her  mistress's  reason,  and 
had  watched ;  and  how  some  days  before  a  sudden 
change  had  increased  her  fear  and  caused  her  to  send 
off  the  telegram.  And  lastly,  how  that  morning,  al- 
most directly  after  the  telegram  had  come  announcing 
the  husband's  return,  his  wife  had  yielded  to  a  sudden 
frenzy,  in  which  she  had  vowed  that  she  would  kill 
the  child,  and  in  her  madness  she  had  thrown  the 
boy  from  the  window  of  her  room  to  the  gravel  path 
below. 

"Was  there  no  apparent  motive?"  he  asked,  when 
she  had  finished  and  was  weeping. 

"  I  forgot,"  said  the  woman,  as  she  put  her  hand  in 
her  pocket  and  drew  out  a  letter.  "  I  found  this  in  her 
room." 

He  took  it,  gazed  a  moment  at  her  writing  on  the 
envelope,  and  kissing  it  broke  it  open.  As  he  read,  a 
look  of  anguish  spread  over  his  face,  which  became 
white,  haggard,  and  drawn.  His  misery  and  hopeless- 
ness seemed  to  age  him  by  half  a  score  of  years,  while 
a  wondering,  mystified  expression  puckered  his  brow 
into  a  dozen  lines  : 


14  Ube  Greatest  (Bift, 

"Your  absence  has  betrayed  you.  I  have  learned 
your  secret — your  traitorous  love  for  Margery  Ailing- 
ham.  But  I'll  punish  your  treachery.  You  drive  me 
to  my  death  ;  but  my  boy  shall  go  with  me.  Godfrey 
shall  never  live  to  be  in  the  care  of  my  rival.  May  a 
false  husband's  curse  light  on  you  and  ruin  you  as  you 
have  ruined  me. — HATTIE.  " 

"Poor  Hattie,"  he  murmured.  "Poor  deluded  child  ! 
What  can  have  caused  this  ?  " 

Then  he  read  the  note  again,  like  one  almost  stunned 
and  unable  to  understand  its  meaning  ;  and,  putting  it 
away  with  a  deep  sigh,  he  went  again  to  the  bed  on 
which  lay  the  maimed  child. 

Bending  down  he  took  the  little  thing's  white  hand 
and  toyed  with  it  with  his  finger.  There  was  no 
answering  clasp.  He  bent  and  kissed  the  nerveless 
fingers. 

"Will  he  live?  "  he  asked,  turning  to  the  doctor. 

"I  believe  so,  now,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Is  it  so  that  he  is — is  hopelessly  crippled  ?  " 

' '  I  fear  so. " 

"God  help  him,  my  bonny,  bonny  little  lad  !  " 

Seeing  a  slight  bead  of  perspiration  on  the  child's 
face,  he  drew  out  his  handkerchief  to  wipe  it,  and  as 
he  did  so  he  drew  with  it  the  letter  of  the  lawyers 
announcing  his  good  fortune,  which  fell  down  on  to  the 
bed.  As  he  picked  it  up  his  hand  shook,  and  he  was 
more  moved  than  he  had  yet  been. 

"  I  was  only  glad  for  them,"  he  murmured.  "  And 
now — " 

He  did  not  finish  the  sentence,  and  his  head  sank 


Ube  Greatest  etft.  is 

on   his   breast,    a   deep,    sorrow-laden    sigh    shaking 
him." 

"It  is  hard  to  bear — very  hard  !  " 
Then  he  fell  on  his  knees  by  the  bed,   and  kissing 
again  the  little  white  hand,  he  buried  his  face  on  his 
arm  on  the  bed.     Next  he  raised  his  hands  and  prayed 
with  awful  earnestness. 

"Oh  God,  Thou  knowest  I  am  as  innocent  as  this 
babe  !  Help  me  not  to  rebel  against  this  trouble. 
Help  me  to  bear  it.  Give  me  strength."  Again,  after 
a  long  pause,  "  It  is  Thy  will.  I  have  no  right  to  mur- 
mur. I  will  not.  Thou  hast,given  ;  Thou  hast  taken 
away  ;  blessed — yes,  blessed — be  Thy  name.  But  it 
is  hard  !  " 

Then  speech  failed  him,  and  laying  his  head  close 
by  that  of  the  maimed  child,  he  burst  into  tears. 


II. 

"  WHO  says  that  ?  " 

The  question  was  asked  with  a  touch  of  imperious 
quickness,  and  the  speaker,  a  strongly-framed,  upstand- 
ing man,  with  self-reliance  written  in  every  line  of  his 
face,  turned  to  his  companion  with  a  grave,  earnest 
look  while  he  waited  for  her  answer. 

The  girl  laughed  lightly  and  coquettishly. 

"  Is  it  such  a  very  dreadful  thing,  then,  Mr.  Dallas, 
to  be  told  that  a  girl  who  everybody  says  is  pretty,  ad- 
mires you,  and  that  you  are  supposed  to  admire  her  in 
return  ?  " 

•'Yes,  it  is  serious  when  you  say  it,  Miss  Crawshay, 
and  say  it  in  such  a  tone  as  to  imply  that  there  is  more 


16  Ube  Greatest  6ift. 

behind  it,"  answered  Hugh  Dallas.  "As  for  what 
others  think,  psh  !  But  you — " 

A  warm  flush  rushed  into  the  girl's  cheeks  at  the  look 
which  accompanied  the  words,  and  she  tried  to  hide 
her  feelings  in  a  laugh. 

1 '  I  thought  you  were  to  be  engaged  to  her, "  she  said, 
and,  picking  up  her  pet  spaniel,  she  buried  her  blush- 
ing cheeks  and  golden  hair  in  the  dog's  silky  coat, 
while  she  glanced  at  the  man  teasingly  out  of  her 
roguish  blue  eyes. 

He  was  quick  to  read  the  real  nervousness  that  lay 
under  the  light  banter,  and  he  went  close  to  where  the 
girl  was  standing  behind  the  trellised  rail  of  a  veranda 
and  spoke  in  a  low  tone. 

"  Do  you  say  that,  remembering  what  passed  a  year 
ago  ?  " 

The  girl  drew  in  her  breath  with  a  quick  catch  and 
stepped  back  from  where  she  had  been  standing,  and 
the  blush  faded  rapidly,  leaving  her  face  grave  and  pale, 
while  her  eyes  avoided  the  hot,  passionate  gaze  of  her 
lover. 

"  I  did  not — I  do  not  want — I — I — " 

She  stopped  and  raised  her  eyes  an  instant  and  then 
dropped  them  again,  very  nervously. 

"  But  I  want  you  to  remember  that  night,  Miss  Craw- 
shay — Beatrice.  I  have  come  now  to  ask  for  the  prom- 
ise you  gave  me  then.  I  told  you  that  with  such 
an  object  to  spur  me,  I  would  make  some  sort  of  a 
start  within  the  year.  I  have  my  foot  on  the  ladder 
now,"  he  said,  smiling  with  proud  confidence,  "and 
I  mean  climbing.  My  chance  has  come.  I've  been 
doing  a  goodish  lot  of  work  for  a  paper  in  the  prov- 


Ube  Greatest  Gift  17 

inces,  and  now  I  have  been  offered  a  post  on  the  staff. 
It's  next  door  to  the  editorship,  and  will  be  that  soon. 
I  didn't  tell  you  till  it  was  all  settled  ;  though  I  wanted 
to,"  and  speaking  in  a  buoyant,  light-hearted,  happy 
tone,  he  looked  for  a  smile  of  pleasure  at  the  news. 

But  the  girl  had  shrunk  back  and  was  trembling,  and 
looked  frightened. 

An  expression  of  surprise  and  momentary  pain  flitted 
over  the  man's  face.  But  the  result  was  only  to  brace 
his  resolution.  He  stepped  on  to  the  veranda  and 
took  her  hand. 

"You  are  glad,  Beatrice,  aren't  you?  You  are  not 
hurt  that  I  did  not  tell  you  before  ?  Ah,  my  dear  one," 
he  cried,  tenderly  and  earnestly,  carried  away  by  a 
thrill  of  feeling  at  the  touch  of  the  girl's  hand  in  his. 
"  I  have  longed  for  this  moment,  longed  to  be  able  to 
come  and  tell  you  all,  to  see  the  light  come  dancing 
into  your  eyes  as  I  saw  it  a  year  ago  ;  the  light  which 
only  love  can  kindle,  my  darling  ;  to  claim  your  prom- 
ise and  to  know  that  you  are  mine,  my  own,  all  my 
own.''  He  put  his  arm  round  her  and  looked  into  her 
downcast  face  as  he  added,  in  a  whisper,  "  You  do 
love  me,  don't  you  ? " 

The  girl  was  trembling  violently  and  did  not  answer. 

"Beatrice!" 

Love,  entreaty,  anxiety,  all  found  expression  in  the 
single  word.  He  drew  her  closer  to  him  and  stooped 
to  kiss  her.  Then  she  shrank  back  from  him  and  shiv- 
ered. He  released  her  instantly,  and  she  covered 
her  face  with  both  hands  and  leant  back  against  the 
wall.  A  pause  followed,  full  of  intense  emotion  to 
both. 

2 


18  Ube  Greatest  Gift 

The  man  broke  the  silence,  his  voice  nervous  and  a 
little  hollow,  but  yet  firm. 

"  What  is  this  ? "  he  asked. 

After  another  pause,  she  took  her  hands  from  her 
face  and  looked  at  him,  her  breath  coming  and  going 
quickly  in  her  effort  to  repress  her  agitation. 

"  Are  you  angry  ?  "  he  asked. 

''You  will  hate  me,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  just  above 
a  whisper,  and  trembled  as  she  spoke — "hate  me." 
She  repeated  the  word  as  if  it  eased  her  to  blame  her- 
self. "  I  hate  myself." 

He  knew  then  what  was  coming. 
~"  You  wish  to  be  released  from  your  promise  ?  " 

He  read  the  struggle  that  was  passing  in  her  ;  and, 
though  the  knowledge  that  she  was  false  pained  and 
wounded  him  beyond  measure,  he  strove  to  hide  his 
feelings  and  to  make  the  girl's  task  easy. 

"  I  was  going  to — to  write,"  she  faltered. 

"It  is  enough,''  he  answered  quickly.  "I  ought 
not  to  have  forced  you  to  tell  me.  It  has  been  hard 
for  you.  I  ought  to  have  seen  for  myself.  I  have 
been  thoughtless.  It  has  all  been  my  fault.  I  had  no 
right  to  ask  you  to  wait  for  me.  And  yet,  I  thought — 
but  there,  I  trusted  you." 

It  was  not  meant  bitterly  ;  but  it  cut  the  girl  more 
deeply  than  any  reproach  he  could  have  uttered,  and 
she  winced. 

"Good-by,"  he  added,  after  a  pause. 

"Don't  go — for  a  minute,"  she  said,  not  looking  at 
him. 

He  stood  gazing  at  her,  and  his  thoughts  were  a 
mingled  memory  of  the  hist  year's  love  scene  between 


ttbe  Greatest  (Wft  19 

them,  and  of  the  little  signs  and  tokens  by  which  he 
had  seemed  to  read  her  love  for  him. 

"You  will  hate  me — when  you  know,"  she  said 
again  ;  and  the  words  broke  his  reverie.  "  Why  don't 
you  taunt  me,  or  reproach  me,  or  revile  me,  or  do  any- 
thing to  make  this  easier  for  me  ? "  she  cried,  with 
some  vehemence.  "You  know  that  you  are  hating 
me  all  the  time  that  you  look  so  calm  and  cold." 

The  unexpected  vehemence  of  her  words  surprised 
him,  and  his  face  showed  this. 

"  I  am — " 

"Wait,"  she  cried  impetuously,  interrupting  him. 
"  Let  me  tell  you.  I  will  tell  you.  I  have  taken  back 
the  promise,  because — because — "  she  hesitated  and 
seemed  to  struggle  with  herself. 

"  Don't — "  he  began,  pained  and  troubled  for  her. 

' '  Because  I  cannot  be  poor. "  The  words  came  with 
a  rush. 

"  Ah  !  "  It  sounded  like  the  cry  of  a  man  who  has 
been  struck. 

"It  is  true — it  is  true.  I  cannot  be  poor.  I  will  not 
be  poor.  I  have  promised  to  be  the  wife  of  a  rich 
man.  Now  reproach  me,"  she  cried,  and  hid  her  face 
in  her  hands  again. 

"  Don't, "he  cried  hastily,  raising  his  hand.  "  Don't 
say  that  is  the  cause.  I  would  rather  it  were  any- 
thing else.  Rather  that  you  have  ceased  to  care  for 
me  ;  that  you  have  wittingly  and  willingly  jilted  me  ; 
that  you  have  had  a  woman's  love  for  a  woman's 
triumph;  that  you  have  never  cared  for  meat  all; 
anything  rather  than  that  you  know  no  higher  feeling 
than  a  paltry  love  of  money." 


20  ttbe  Greatest  <Wft. 

"It  is  true.  I  cannot  be  poor.  You  had  better  hate 
me." 

"  No,  it  is  not  you,  it  is  myself  that  I  despise.  You 
cannot  help  your  nature  ;  but  I  have  been  blind  and  a 
fool."  He  said  this  under  his  breath. 

The  silence  that  followed  was  full  of  pain  to  both. 

"Can  we  not  be  friends?"  she  asked  wistfully, 
glancing  up  at  him. 

"  Friends  !  "  he  echoed  ;  and  then  after  a  long  pause, 
"I  suppose  you  think  so,  or  you  would  not  say  it. 
But — "  He  shook  his  head  half  sadly,  then  added  : 
"  Sincerely  and  honestly,  I  hope  you  will  be  happy. 
I  would  not  have  you  otherwise.  You  know  what  is 
most  likely  to  make  you  happy,  and  you  have  chosen 
it.  May  the  choice  prove  wise.  Good-by. " 

' '  Good-by.  Won't  you  even  shake  hands  with  me  ?  " 
she  asked,  as  Dallas  turned  away. 

"  Certainly,"  he  answered,  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"I  am  glad,  after  all,  that  you  are  not  angry — and 
not  more  put  out." 

She  hesitated  and  stammered  in  her  awkward  desire 
to  express  regret  for  her  callous  treatment  of  him.  She 
had  quite  misread  his  calmness,  and  did  not  notice  the 
look  of  astonishment  on  his  face  at  her  words. 

He  said  nothing,  and  turned  away. 

She  stood  still  on  the  veranda  and  watched  him  as 
he  went  into  the  house  for  a  moment  to  get  his  hat, 
and  then  as  he  crossed  the  small,  square,  walled  gar- 
den to  the  gate,  and  she  pressed  her  hands  to  her 
bosom,  as  if  to  check  her  intense  desire  to  call  him 
back,  and  to  hold  within  bounds  the  misery  that  filled 
her  when  he  left  without  once  looking  back. 


TTbe  Greatest  Gift.  21 

And  when  the  gate  had  closed  behind  him,  and  she 
heard  his  firm,  quick  footsteps  die  away  on  the  flags 
of  the  street,  she  bent  her  head  down  on  the  trellis  rail, 
and  sobbed  as  if  her  heart  would  break.  She  had 
never  loved  him  so  well  as  in  that  hour  of  losing  him. 


CHAPTER    I. 

"On,  how  can  you  say  that,  Mr.  Ramsay?" 

And  Margery  Allingham  stopped  in  the  act  of  pick- 
ing a  bunch  of  roses,  and  looking  at  her  companion 
through  the  bud-laden  branches  of  a  tall,  full  standard 
rose-tree,  shook  her  finger  at  him,  smiling  very  sweetly 
the  while. 

"It's  a  fact — upon  my  word  it  is,"  answered  the 
young  fellow,  a  dark,  well-built,  well-clothed  man  of 
some  five  or  six-and-twenty.  "  Do  you  think  I  should 
care  about  the  poor  old  souls  in  Garthorne  village  if  it 
had  not  been  you  who  showed  me  what  to  do  ?  That's 
a  good  one,  and  no  mistake,"  and  the  laugh  he  gave 
revealed  a  row  of  white  even  teeth,  between  full  but 
shapely-curved  lips,  and  a  dark  mustache,  while  his 
face  was  abeam  in  every  feature  with  admiration  for 
the  girl. 

"  I  won't  believe  that,  Mr.  Ramsay.  Why,  they 
every  one  swear  by  the  young  Squire  of  Garthorne," 
said  the  girl. 

"They  swear  by  a  good  many  other  things,  too, 
sometimes,  I  think  ;  but,  so  far  as  I'm  concerned,  it's 
all  false  glory — unearned  increment,  as  good  old  Dallas 
would  say.  I'm  a  humbug,  a  hypocrite,  a  Pecksniff 
— what  you  like,"  and  he  laughed  again,  frankly  and 
openly,  a  jolly  laugh  to  hear. 

"But  I  don't  like  hypocrites — at  least,  I   mean — " 


Ube  Greatest  Girt.  23 

She  stopped,  and  her  eyes  danced  with  fun.  "  I  don't 
think  you're  a  hypocrite,  though  if  you  were  one,  and 
if  all  hypocrites  did  as  much  good  and  gave  away  as 
much  as  you  do,  it  would  be  all  the  better  for  the  world. " 

"  I  don't  care  about  making  many  people  happy  ;  I 
only  care  about  one,"  said  Alan  Ramsay,  looking  at 
her  meaningly. 

Margery  Allingham  turned  away  to  the  rose-tree 
again,  and  the  effort  she  had  to  make  to  reach  a  bud 
that  was  high  up  brought  a  rich  color  to  her  face, 
while  the  young  fellow  stood  nervously  turning  over 
with  his  foot  a  stone  that  lay  on  the  turf,  glancing  now 
and  again  toward  the  girl.  He  was  half  afraid  that  he 
had  offended  her  by  what  he  had  said,  and  yet  half 
determined  to  go  further,  and  propose  to  her  there 
and  then. 

"  Can't  I  help  you  to  get  that  rose  down  ? "  he  said, 
and  called  himself  a  fool  because  he  could  not  keep 
his  voice  steady  as  he  went  close  to  her. 

"No,  thank  you  ;  I  have  all  I  want,"  said  the  girl 
hurriedly,  \dth  a  sudden  feeling  of  shyness.  She  cast 
a  quick,  nervous,  glance  at  his  face,  and  felt  confused 
when  she  met  his  eyes,  and  slipped  away  to  the  other 
side  of  the  rose-tree. 

"It  was  so  stupid  to  feel  like  that! "she  thought, 
"when  we  have  been  alone  together  a  hundred  times 
before,"  and  then  she  glanced  at  him  again,  as  if  to 
search  for  the  reason.  Something  that  she  seemed  to 
read  in  his  face  at  once  assured  and  excited  her,  rais- 
ing a  hundred  different  feelings. 

Neither  of  them  spoke  for  a  long  time,  though  the 
man  went  to  her  side  and  stood  by  her. 


24  Ube  Greatest  6ift 

"  Love  took  up  the  harp  of  life,  and  smote  the  chords 
with  all  his  might,"  and  the  silent  harmonies  drew  the 
two  together. 

"Those  are  lovely  roses,"  said  the  man,  feeling 
that  he  must  break  the  silence,  and  he  put  out  his 
hands  to  touch  them. 

' '  They  are  for  old  Dame  D welly,"  answered  the  girl, 
naming  an  old  bedridden  villager,  but  not  looking  up. 

The  emotions  which  thrilled  her  were  strange  and 
embarrassing,  and  yet  she  was  conscious  of  feeling 
intensely  happy.  She  held  the  flowers  toward  him, 
and,  as  she  did  so,  their  hands  touched.  Involuntarily 
each  glanced  into  the  other's  eyes. 

"  Margery,"  said  the  man  in  a  whisper,  taking  her 
hand  in  his. 

She  made  no  effort  to  draw  it  away,  and  Alan  bent 
over  the  flowers,  waiting  till  his  throbbing,  bounding 
pulses  should  grow  still  enough  to  let  him  speak. 

Just  at  that  moment  a  loud  whistle  came  from 
another  part  of  the  grounds  of  the  Manor  House,  and 
a  voice  was  heard  shouting  noisily  : 

"  Alan  !  A-lan  !  A-lan  !     Yoicks  !     Hulloo  !  " 

Both  started. 

"My  darling,"  whispered  the  man  in  quick,  pas- 
sionate haste,  while  he  tried  to  kiss  her  hand,  .but 
kissed  his  own  instead ;  and  the  next  minute  they 
were  several  yards  apart,  the  girl  very  red  and  very 
busy  adding  to  her  bunch  of  roses,  and  her  lover  ask- 
ing in  off-hand  tones  whether  she  wanted  any  rhodo- 
dendron leaves  to  give  the  bouquet  a  finish.  Mean- 
while the  shouting  continued  and  came  nearer. 

Before  the  owner  of  the  voice  reached  them,  how- 


Greatest  6ift  25 

ever,  a  girl  somewhat  younger  than  Margery,  and 
darker  and  a  little  taller,  her  sister  Nan,  came  up  very 
quietly. 

"  Guy  is  looking  for  you,  Mr.  Ramsay,  I  fancy," 
she  said;  "I  think  he  wants  you  for  tennis.  What 
are  you  plucking  rhododendron  leaves  for?  " 

"Eh?  Oh,  for  a — for  my  nag.  He's  awfully  fond 
of  them.  I  asked  your  sister  if  I  might  take  one  or 
two." 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Nan,  and  laughed.  Then  she 
cast  a  rapid  glance  at  both.  "  I  believe  they're  very 
good  as  chaff,"  she  said  quietly. 

"  Yes,  rather  ;  splendid." 

At  this  moment  the  shouter  came  up. 

"Oh,  I  say,  I  call  it  too  jolly  bad  of  you  two  girls 
to  leave  me  to  do  all  the  entertaining  for  that  curate 
chap.  It  fags  me  out.  He's  awful  nuts  on  you, 
Marge.  You  should  have  seen  his  face  fall  when  you 
went  off  the  tennis  ground.  But  I  say,  Alan,  doesn't 
he  just  fancy  himself  at  tennis  ?  Come  and  give  him 
a  dressing.  He's  awful  swaggery  about  his  play. 
Wanted  to  give  me  full  thirty  because  he  said  I  was  a 
boy.  Like  his  cheek.  But  I  licked  him  properly, 
sewed  him  up,  and  now  I  want  you  to  come  and  tie 
him  up  at  level.  What  are  you  all  doing  up  .here  ?" 
broke  off  the  lad  suddenly,  looking  from  one  to  the 
other. 

He  was  a  handsome,  merry-faced  boy  of  sixteen, 
with  a  strong  likeness  to  his  two  sisters. 

"Where's  uncle,  Guy?"  asked  Nan,  ignoring  his 
question,  "  and  Godfrey?  " 

"The  captain's  off  somewhere  with  Alan's  friend, 


26  tTbe  6reatest  6ift 

Mr.  Dallas,  I  think,  and  Godfrey's  I  don't  know  where. 
He's  such  a  rum  beggar.  You  never  know  where  he 
is  for  five  minutes  together.  Come  on,  Alan,  let's 
bottle  up  that  blessed  curate." 

And  laying  his  arm  in  Alan  Ramsay's,  he  led  him 
away,  the  two  girls  following,  Nan  stealing  more  than 
one  glance  at  Margery's  face.  Then  she  slipped  her 
hand  into  the  other's  arm  and  squeezed  it. 

"Two  pretty  girls, "  thought  Hugh  Dallas,  as  from 
a  corner  of  the  house  he  saw  them  all  go  on  to  the 
tennis  lawn,  where  the  curate  and  Alan's  brother, 
Donald,  Guy  Allingham's  chum,  were  playing  a  sett. 
"Alan's  a  lucky  fellow."  He  knew  his  friend's  secret. 
' '  I  wonder  if  he's  done  it.  They  both  look  monstrously 
happy.  And  the  other  girl  looks  as  if  she  knew  what 
had  been  going  on,  and  enjoyed  it  almost  as  much  as 
her  sister.  How  some  girls  cotton  to  a  thing  like 
this." 

Then  he  smiled  to  himself  as  he  knocked  off  the  ash 
of  his  cigar,  and  looked  at  it  meditatively,  as  some 
men  will  when  their  thoughts  are  busy  within  them, 
as  his  were,  scampering  over  the  fields  of  five  years 
to  the  evening  when  Beatrice  had  roused  him  from  the 
one  love-dream  of  his  life. 

"  Heigho  !  I  wonder  where  the  captain  is  ?  He  said 
he'd  be  here  in  a  minute  or  two.  What  a  fine  old  fel- 
low he  is.  What  a  glorious  Liberal  he  would  have 
made,  if  only  he  had  chanced  to  be  cast  that  way. 
His  great  heart  teems  with  thoughts  and  plans  for 
other  people.  I'll  have  a  look  round  for  him." 

Captain  Drury,  who  had  been  showing  him  through 
the  stables,  and  farm  buildings,  and  vineries,  and 


Ube  Greatest  Gitt.  27 

flower-houses,  had  left  him  for  a  moment,  promising- 
to  return.  The  two  men  had  been  mutually  attracted 
by  the  magnetism  of  two  frank  and  sympathetic 
minds. 

"  What  a  kindly,  generous  gentleman  he  is/'  mused 
Dallas,  as  he  moved  slowly  along  the  path  away  from 
the  tennis  ground.  "It  comes  out  in  every  pulse  of 
his  heart.  And  how  proud  of  every  living  thing  about 
the  place,  in  his  cheery,  breezy,  happy  way.  And  yet 
— there  is  a  something  somewhere  that  I  didn't  get  at. 
It  pops  out  now  and  again  in  a  glance  of  the  eye,  a 
curve  of  the  lip,  a  drop  in  the  voice — a  something  that 
speaks  of  a  fly  in  the  amber,  a  bitter  somewhere  in  the 
honey.  I  wonder " 

And  he  stood  still  on  the  lawn,  on  to  which  he 
had  strayed,  and  was  very  thoughtful.  His  reverie 
was  broken  by  the  sound  of  a  deep,  heavy  sigh. 

He  looked  quickly  round  him  for  the  cause,  but 
could  see  nothing,  and  moving  on  a  few  paces,  came 
to  a  walk  that  opened  from  the  lawn  through  a  small 
shrubbery,  and  at  a  little  distance  he  found  what  he 
sought. 

The  crippled  son  of  the  house,  Godfrey,  was  sitting 
on  a  fallen  tree  in  an  attitude  of  deep  dejection,  his 
head  sunk  forward  on  his  chest,  and  his  crooked  back 
hunched  up  in  a  manner  that  made  his  deformity  much 
more  than  usually  apparent. 

Just  as  Dallas  caught  sight  of  him  a  sound  of  noisy, 
merry  laughter  came  from  the  tennis  ground,  and 
when  the  cripple  heard  it,  he  seemed  to  wince  in 
misery  or  anger. 

"Poor  beggar,"  said  Dallas   to   himself  under  his 


28  tTbe  Greatest  Oift, 

breath,  moving  back  across  the  lawn.  "Poor  devil! 
Nature  or  something  has  done  him  an  ill  turn.  He's 
not  like  other  fellows  I've  seen  with  a  crook  in  the 
back.  Generally  they  have  enough  conceit  for  three 
average  sound  men.  But  this  one's  mind  is  as  ill  built 
as  his  body.  He  winced  just  now  when  that  laugh 
came  as  if  it  had  hurt  him.  I  suppose  he  can't  bear 
to  see  other  people  enjoying  themselves  in  any  way 
that  he  can't  join  in.  Jealous  of  it,  by  Jove  ! " 

He  stopped  as  a  sudden  idea  flashed  across  his 
thoughts. 

"I  wonder  if  he  has  as  sharp  eyes  for  Miss  Margery 
as  her  sister  seems  to  have,  and  if  that's  got  anything 
to  do  with  it.  If  it  has,  heaven  help  the  poor  beggar. 
He'd  take  that  sort  of  trouble  about  as  badly  as  could 
be.  But  I  can't  leave  him  miserable  there.  I'll  try 
and  rouse  him  a  bit  for  the  old  captain's  sake.  No 
wonder  there's  a  fly  in  the  amber.  That's  it. " 

When  he  was  far  enough  away  he  turned  and 
began  to  whistle,  and  then  walked  back  to  the  path, 
and  stopped  when  he  reached  it  with  an  exclamation 
of  assumed  astonishment. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Drury,"  he  said,  very  pleasantly  and 
cheerily,  "so  our  tastes  square  a  bit,  do  they,  in  liking 
a  little  quiet  thought  ?  " 

The  cripple  had  jumped  up  hastily  on  hearing  his 
approach,  and  his  pale,  delicate,  and  almost  beautiful 
dark  face  flushed  at  being  discovered.  Hugh  Dallas 
took  no  notice  of  the  look,  but  continued  in  his  easy, 
cordial  manner-: 

"What  beautiful  grounds  you  have  at  the  Manor 
House.  I  have  never  seen  prettier.  These  wild  spots 


Ube  (Breatest  (Bift  29 

as  foils  to  the  rest  are  delightful.  May  I  trespass  on 
your  good  nature  and  get  you  to  take  me  round  ?  The 
captain  has  taken  me  through  all  his  stables  and 
buildings  and  hot-houses,  and  I  should  like  to  see  the 
grounds." 

"My  father  is  very  proud  of  his  buildings,"  said 
Godfrey  Drury,  won  over  by  the  other's  manner.  "  I 
will  gladly  show  you  the  grounds.  You  are  right, 
they  are  beautiful.  We  all  love  the  place." 

By  slight  degrees  Hugh  Dallas,  by  largely  monopo- 
lizing the  talk  at  first,  drew  Godfrey  to  speak  with  in- 
creased freedom,  and  at  last  with  cheerfulness. 

He  sounded  him  as  to  his  ways  of  thought,  his 
habits,  and  his  reading.  He  listened  closely  when 
Godfrey  spoke,  and  followed  up  the  clues  to  any  con- 
genial subjects,  until  he  led  the  other  to  take  a  grow- 
ing interest  in  the  conversation. 

Thus,  when  they  reached  the  tennis  ground,  both 
laughing,  and  the  cripple's  face  flushed  with  pleasure, 
Dallas  saw  the  two  girls  turn  and  glance  at  Godfrey, 
and  then  at  one  another  with  surprise. 

They  all  stood  together  then,  chatting  and  laughing, 
while  Alan  Ramsay  was  giving  the  curate  what  Guy 
called  "beans"  at  tennis.  Dallas  watched  the  cripple 
very  closely,  and  soon  thought  he  could  detect  some 
signs  that  the  guess  he  had  made  that  Margery  had  been 
in  the  other's  thoughts  when  he  had  found  him  alone 
was  correct.  As  the  game  drew  to  a  close  they  all 
turned  and  watched  it,  and  when  their  admiration  of 
Alan's  skill  and  activity  found  vent  in  words,  and  the 
two  lads  were  loudest  in  praise  of  his  play,  Dallas  found 
that  Godfrey  grew  silent,  and  then  he  caught  him 


30  Ztbe  Greatest  6ift 

furtively  eying  Margery  to  see  where  she  looked. 
When  once  or  twice  pleasure  at  Alan's  success  showed 
in  her  manner  and  broke  forth  in  some  exclamation, 
he  noticed  Godfrey's  brow  grow  dark,  and  an  expression 
of  pain  or  trouble  pass  over  his  face. 

Dallas  knew  then  that  it  was  Margery,  and  a  thought 
of  possible  troubles  and  complications  ahead  flashed 
across  his  mind. 

When  the  game  finished,  Margery  was  standing  by 
Godfrey,  and  the  curate,  vexed  at  having  been  beaten 
in  the  presence  of  the  girls,  came  up  to  them.  He 
was  a  tactless  man,  and  after  saying  that  he  was  out 
of  form  and  out  of  luck,  and  making  a  multitude  of 
excuses,  he  turned  to  Godfrey,  and,  holding  out  his 
racket,  said  in  a  patronizing  way  : 

"Now,  Mr.  Godfrey,  you  try  a  sett.  It'll  do  you 
good  to  move  about  a  bit." 

The  cripple  flashed  a  look  of  anger  at  him  while  his 
pale  cheeks  crimsoned. 

"Godfrey  does  not  care  for  tennis,  Mr.  Lee,"  said 
Margery,  interposing.  "  He  only  plays  when  I  want 
to  have  a  lesson." 

"Eh?  Oh,  of  course  not.  Forgot.  Beg  your  par- 
don," stammered  the  curate,  floundering  hopelessly, 
and  turning  red  in  his  confusion. 

"Ah,  here  comes  the  captain,"  said  Dallas,  who  had 
been  a  witness  of  this,  and  of  the  look  of  thanks  which 
Godfrey  had  given  Margery.  He  felt  he  could  have 
kicked  the  curate. 

"Upon  my  word,  Mr.  Dallas,"  said  Captain  Drury, 
"I  don't  know  what  you'll  think  of  me.  Just  imagine, 
Madge,  I  took  Mr.  Dallas  all  round  everything,  trotted 


Ube  Greatest  6fft  31 

out  every  hobby-horse  in  the  stable  till  he  must  have 
thought  me  the  most  unconscionable  old  oddity  of  a  tire- 
some agricultural  sea-dog ;  and  then  went  away  say- 
ing I'd  join  him  in  a  minute  or  two,  and  never  went 
near  him  again,  but  left  him  to  find  his  way  alone  to 
you  youngsters.  If  it  hadn't  been  that  he  was  coming 
from  an  old  fogey  like  me  to  all  you,  I  should  hardly 
venture  to  look  him  in  the  face.  As  it  is,  Madge,  you 
must  be  peacemaker  as  usual.  Ask  him  to  forgive 
me,"  said  the  captain,  turning  a  smile  for  Dallas  into 
a  look  of  love  for  the  girl. 

"Please,  Mr.  Dallas,  you  must  forgive  us.  We  have 
a  bad  habit  of  going  away,  and  when  we  get  alone, 
we  lose  our  reckoning,  and  don't  keep  the  log  properly. 
And  we're  sorry.'  Isn't  that  it,  uncle?"  said  the  girl, 
smiling  merrily. 

"Aye,  Madge,  that's  it — that's  it,"  answered  Captain 
Drury,  with  a  laugh  which  seemed  to  die  away  too 
quickly,  as  if  something  in  her  words  had  stirred  him. 
"There  you  have  it,  Mr.  Dallas.  I  am  really  very 
sorry  I  was  so  forgetful,"  he  added. 

"Nay,  captain,  say  no  more  pray,"  returned  Dallas. 
"As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  was  a  gainer,  for  I  got  your 
son  to  take  me  round  the  grounds." 

"And  what  do  you  think,  uncle,"  chimed  in  the 
younger  girl,  who  came  up.  "They  actually  were 
laughing  together  all  about  the  walks  and  came  here 
with  all  the  bubbles  of  the  jokes  still  making  them 
laugh  ;  and  then  wouldn't  tell  us  a  word  of  them." 

Nan  knew  well  enough  how  it  would  please  the  cap- 
tain to  hear  that  of  Godfrey. 

"Wouldn't  they?     Wouldn't  they?     What  conduct, 


32  Ube  Greatest  $ift. 

eh,  Nan?  And  Godfrey  in  the  joke  too,  eh?  Well 
now,"  and  he  laughed  as  he  looked  first  at  the  girls  and 
then  with  a  very  kindly  expression  at  Dallas.  "So, 
Master  Godfrey,"  he  said,  looking  round. 

But  Godfrey  had  left  them,  and  as  they  looked 
toward  the  house,  they  saw  him  just  going  indoors. 

The  old  captain  gazed  after  him  for  a  moment  with 
a  thoughtful  look  which  revealed  much  to  the  vigilant 
eyes  of  Hugh  Dallas. 

"Ah,  he's  gone  in,"  said  the  captain,  forcing  back 
the  smile  to  his  face. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  curate.  "  I  think  poor  Mr.  Godfrey 
is  tired.  I  suppose  he  tires  very  quickly.  He  doesn't 
seem  very  strong." 

"H'm,"  the  captain  coughed,  and  shot  a  quick 
glance  at  the  speaker,  which  the  latter  was  too  self- 
occupied  to  notice,  and  soon  afterwards  they  all  moved 
up  to  the  house  hearing  the  first  dinner  gong. 


CHAPTER  II. 

DURING  dinner  the  talk  was  general,  a  good  share  of 
it  falling  to  Hugh  Dallas.  He  was  greatly  attracted 
by  the  character  of  the  old  captain,  and  to  watch  the 
latter  in  the  midst  of  those  whom  he  loved  and  who 
loved  him  was  an  experience  peculiarly  pleasing  to  a 
man  of  Dallas's  warm  sympathies. 

He  listened  with  much  interest  when  the  captain 
spoke  of  what  he  was  trying  to  do  with  the  people 
round  the  estate — the  fisher  folk  at  Seacove  and  the 
laborers  in  the  villages  ;  especially  the  attempts  that 
had  been  made  to  promote  self-help  and  thrift. 

"It's  Madge  there  who  ferrets  out  what  we  have  to 
do — she's  a  perfect  regiment  of  charity  foragers  rolled 
into  one,"  said  the  old  man,  nodding  toward  Margery 
at  the -bottom  of  the  table,  and  smiling — "not  but 
what  Nan  does  a  famous  lot,"  he  added,  pinching  the 
latter's  cheek.  "And  between  us  we  try  to  work  out 
something  different  from  the  soup  and  coals  and 
blankets  process  ;  but  it's  poor  material  to  work  on, 
much  of  it." 

"I  have  often  regretted  there  is  so  little  ingenuity 
shown  in  work  of  this  kind,"  replied  Dallas.  "  If  men 
would  only  take  the  trouble  to  spend  as  carefully  as 
they  hoard,  and  would  put  into  the  giving  some  of  the 
energy  and  cleverness  needed  for  getting,  things  would 
3  33 


34  Ube  Greatest  Gift. 

be  different.  I  remember  once  a  fanciful  suggestion 
being  sent  to  me  to  the  effect  that  the  administration 
of  charity,  gauged  both  by  ingenuity  and  generosity, 
should  be  the  path  to  the  House  of  Lords.  It's  so 
easy  to  write  a  cheque  for  a  hundred  pounds  and  so 
hard  for  others  to  give  away  even  a  hundred  pence 
without  risk." 

"You  would  take  away  from  charity  the  one  worthy 
motive — the  desire  to  do  good  for  the  mere  sake  of 
doing  it,"  answered  the  captain. 

"True;  but  you  would  intensify  the  desire  to  do 
the  good.  A  peerage,  a  title,  or  an  order  of  some  sort, 
or  a  place  about  the  Court  would  vastly  warm  the 
springs  of  much  charity." 

"  'Do  good  by  stealth,  and  blush  to  find  it  fame,'" 
quoted  the  curate. 

"  It's  the  highest  of  all  good,"  replied  Dallas  quickly  ; 
"and  always  will  be.  But  it  is  better  to  do  good 
noisily  than  not  to  do  it  at  all — if  not  for  the  doer,  then 
for  the  receiver.  A  House  of  Peers  who  had  graduated 
in  practical  philanthropy  would  be  no  bad  institution 
in  a  democratic  age."  He  smiled  at  the  conceit  as  he 
finished.  "  By  the  way,  you  have  tried  co-operative 
work  here,  haven't  you,  for  farming  and  fishing,  and 
so  on  ? " 

"Yes,"  said  the  captain.  "The  most  hopeful  ex- 
periments of  all.  How  did  you  know?  " 

"  I  had  some  account  sent  to  me  of  the  work  before 
I  left  Lancashire.  Here  you  are  inside  the  area  of  our 
papers  at  Middlingham  ;  and  certainly  I  must  claim 
editorial  omniscience." 

This  led  to  some  talk  on  newspapers  and  newspaper 


Ube  Greatest  Gift  35 

work,  and  Hugh  Dallas's  own  editorial  experiences,  in 
which  all  seemed  to  take  a  great  deal  of  interest. 

"You  must  watch  him  closely,  Nan,  when  he  gets 
on  the  topic  of  newspapers,"  said  Alan  Ramsay,  who 
was  sitting  next  to  the  girl.  "  Dallas  is  the  most 
dreadful  fraud  when  you  want  him  to  tell  you  any- 
thing on  that  subject.  I  believe  all  newspaper  men 
try  to  keep  up  a  little  mystery." 

"The  only  mystery  is  the  'we,'"  answered  Dallas, 
smiling.  "And  nobody  either  inside  or  outside  an 
office  has  quite  solved  that.  But  all  the  rest  is  simple 
enough.  A  mere  matter  of  sitting  at  a  table  and  put- 
ting a  pen  orjjencil  to  paper.  Of  course  you  must  be 
careful  to  put  down  the  right  words  and  see  that  others 
do  the  same  ;  but  after  that,  all  the  rest  is  easy.  Any 
one  can  run  a  newspaper.  Ask  the  first  person  you 
meet  if  that  is  not  so." 

"Ah,  now  you  are  laughing  at  us,  Mr.  Dallas,"  said 
Nan. 

"Is  it  really  an  easy  matter?"  asked  Godfrey, 
speaking  for  the  first  time. 

"I  am  not  laughing  at  you,  Miss  Nan.  I  am  only 
saying  what  many  people  think.  Is  it  easy  ?  Well, 
yes  and  no.  The  routine  is  easy — and  often  irksome. 
But  there  is  something  more  than  routine  ;  and  that 
something  can  never  be  easy,  for  it  calls  for  and 
uses  all  the  best  that  a  man  can  give ;  and  uses  it 
mercilessly.  But  no  man  grudges  it  ;  for  the  work 
has  a  charm  which,  once  -tasted,  never  palls,  never 
cloys,  never  satiates.  The  charm  is  that  of  the  man 
who  loves  his  craft ;  who  listens  with  rapture  to  the 
clear  rhythmical  sound  of  his  hammer  on  the  anvil  of 


36  Ube  Greatest  Gift. 

life,  and  feels  that  each  blow  is  keeping  time  with  the 
pulse  of  some  human  heart  and  must  make  for  either 
the  happiness  or  the  misery  of  the  world.  No  man, 
unless  he  have  the  flat  skull  of  the  fool,  can  help  feel- 
ing the  seriousness  of  such  work — or  help  glorying  in 
trying  to  do  his  best  in  it." 

"  You  love  your  work,'5  said  the  captain.  "  But  do 
you  think  that  people  are  led  now  as  they  used  to  be 
by  the  papers  ?  " 

"Do  I  think  less  people  led  by  the  Bible,  because 
so  many  more  read  it  ?  Do  you  think  a  sailing  vessel 
is  less  influenced  by  the  trade  winds,  because  steamers 
are  largely  independent  of  them?  A  skipper  with  a 
head  wind  shoves  his  ship  ahead  by  tacking,  but  he 
uses  the  wind,  captain,"  returned  Dallas  with  a  smile. 
"Without  the  wind,  whether  it  be  astern,  or  on  the 
quarter,  or  dead  ahead,  there's  no  progress.  And  so 
it  is  with  us.  The  Press  is  the  breeze  that  makes  prog- 
ress possible  nowadays." 

This  was  always  a  favorite  subject  with  him,  and  it 
occurred  to  him  now  to  try  an  experiment  on  Godfrey 
Drury. 

"You  will  smile  at  my  enthusiasm,"  he  continued. 
"  But  I  do  love  the  good  craft,  and  I  love  it  for  one 
great  reason.  It  can  help  the  humblest,  as  it  can  pull 
down  the  strongest ;  and  it  gives  to  the  weakest  and 
feeblest  creatures  on  earth  the  strength  of  a  giant  to 
help  those  who  are  in  a  like  condition." 

He  saw  both  Godfrey  and  his  father  glance  up  quickly 
at  his  words. 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Margery. 

"  I  mean  that  it  is  the  only  live  profession  where  the 


Greatest  0ift.  37 

man  of  ideas  is  the  equal  of  the  man  of  action  ;  nay, 
his  superior  officer.  He  directs  what  others  shall  do. 
Were  I  the  strongest  man,  I  would  join  the  Press,  just 
as  I  would  if  I  were  the  feeblest  woman." 

He  noticed  then  that  the  captain's  eyes  had  turned 
m  his  son's  direction,  as  if  the  words  had  suggested  a 
train  of  thought. 

"Woman,  do  you  say  ?  "  asked  Nan. 

"Woman,  of  course,  Miss  Nan,"  he  answered. 
"The  Press  of  the  future  will  be  half  manned  by 
women — to  use  a  bull.  The  weakness  of  to-day  will 
be  the  strength  of  to-morrow." 

"The  sphere  of  woman  is  the  home,"  said  the  curate. 

"Is,  perhaps.  But  when  she  has  no  home,  what  is 
she  to  do  ?  Fret,  flirt,  fool,  starve — or  work  ?  " 

"A  true  woman  has  no  need  to  fear  for  her  future," 
replied  the  curate,  with  complacent  sententious- 
ness. 

"  You  are  right,"  answered  Dallas  dryly.  "  But  not 
quite  in  the  sense  you  mean.  Many  valued  forces  of 
to-day  are  the  despised  wastes  of  yesterday,  and  the 
mental  wastes  of  to-day  will  exact  their  revenge  in  the 
future.  Where  men  are  few,  bodies  are  valuable  ;  but 
in  a  plethora  of  millions  it  is  brain  that  tells.  Are  you 
anxious  to  see  the  sphere  of  woman's  \vork  widening, 
Miss  Nan  ?  "  he  asked,  looking  at  the  girl  more  observ- 
antly than  he  had  yet  done,  struck  by  the  eager  zeal- 
ous expression  on  her  face  and  in  her  eyes. 

"Yes,"  she  replied  readily.  Then  she  looked  round 
as  if  expecting  some  sharp  criticism. 

"Oh,  Nan's  a  regular  clinker  when  she  sets  off  about 
that, "  said  Guy,  laughing.  ' '  She's  a  regular  one-er,  and 


38  Ube  areatest  Oift 

only  wants  blue  goggles  and  cloth  boots  with  no  heels 
to  become  the  regulation  blue-stocking.  Girls  ought 
not  to  be  allowed  even  to  think  about  such  things"  he 
said,  with  an  air  of  boyish  superiority. 

"Nan's  all  right,  if  you  don't  chaff  her,"  said  Alan's 
brother  Donald,  taking  the  girl's  part,  and  then  color- 
ing. 

"  H'm,"  coughed  Guy,  in  a  significant  falsetto.  "  Of 
course."  And  at  this  Donald  covertly  shook  his  fist  at 
him,  while  the  latter  retaliated  by  taking  two  spoons, 
and,  after  clinking  them  together,  pushing  one  toward 
Donald  and  the  other  toward  Nan. 

"Will  you  have  a  cigar,  Mr.  Dallas?"  asked  the 
captain,  who  had  been  thoughtful  for  some  time  ;  and 
at  this  they  all  rose  from  the  table. 

In  the  course  of  the  evening  an  incident  happened  to 
show  Dallas  that  what  he  had  said  at  dinner  had  not 
passed  unobserved  by  Godfrey.  The  party  were  in  the 
billiard-room  and  Alan  and  the  captain  were  playing 
together,  when  Dallas  noticed  that  Godfrey  had  gone 
out  of  the  room.  Interest  in  the  strange  character 
prompted  Dallas  to  go  in  search  of  him  ;  and  he  found 
him  sitting  in  the  dimmed  light  of  a  fernery,  having 
stumbled  on  him  by  accident,  when,  after  an  unsuc- 
cessful search,  he  was  trying  to  find  his  way  back  to 
the  billiard-room. 

"  Do  you  like  ferns,  Mr.  Dallas,  or  have  you  strayed 
here  merely  to  be  alone?  "  asked  the  cripple,  rising  as 
the  other  approached. 

"I  had  strolled  out  and  was  trying  to  find  my  way 
back  to  the  billiard-room,"  replied  Dallas,  who  had  no- 
ticed the  attitude  of  dejection  in  which  the  other  had 


Ube  Greatest  <Mft  39 

been  sitting.  "But  you — you  must  be  fond  of  ferns 
to  stay  here  like  this  alone  ?  " 

He  felt  an  irresistible  inclination  to  speak  to  him  as 
to  a  child. 

"  Oh,  I — "  and  his  face  clouded.  "  I  am  not  always 
in  the  mood  for — I  mean  it  is  best  for  me  to  be  alone — 
sometimes." 

"Ah,  yes,  sometimes.  Just  as  it  is  with  all  of  us," 
said  the  other  cheerily. 

The  dwarf  glanced  up,  and  in  the  dim  light  it  seemed 
to  Hugh  Dallas  as  if  there  were  almost  a  look  of 
entreaty  in  his  eyes.  He  was  about  to  speak,  but 
checked  himself,  and,  turning  to  a  large  fern,  picked 
off  some  few  dead  leaves. 

"You  do  not  understand,"  he  said,  after  a  long 
pause.  "  You  are  fresh  from  the  world  outside,  with  the 
suggestion  of  the  battle-field  in  every  word  and  gesture 
of  conscious  strength  and  self-reliant  power.  You 
cannot  see  how  still  the  air  is  here.  It  is  like  the  wind 
of  a  cannon  ball  as  it  rushes  over  the  land  of  the  lotos. 
The  weakling  weeds  are  broken."  He  said  this  in  a 
low  voice,  almost  a  whisper. 

"There  need  be  no  lotos-eaters  in  our  days,"  said 
Dallas. 

"But  those  who  have  once  tasted  stay  to  eat,  and 
there  are  many  who  have  not  strength  for  a  stronger 
diet.  In  Seacove  we  all  eat  the  lotos." 

"Well,  better  that  than  drugs  which  have  a  ranker 
aftertaste,"  said  Dallas,  making  a  shot. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Godfrey,  looking  at 
him  quickly. 

"  In  the  world  we  get  our  emotions  turned  to  genie 


40  ,  ttbe  Greatest  Gift. 

to  hurt  us.  Ambition,  greed,  love — strangers  to  lotos- 
eaters  these — but  consuming  demons  to  those  in  the 
world  who  know  them." 

"  Ah  !  " 

It  was  scarcely  more  than  a  whisper  ;  but  the  cripple 
turned  away,  and  bent  again  over  a  plant  and  was 
silent.  When  he  next  spoke  Dallas  noticed  a  change 
in  his  voice. 

"True.  We  know  nothing  of  those.  But  you  spoke 
to-night  of  journalism.  Is  it  difficult  to  make  a  start  ?  " 
He  hesitated  as  he  put  the  question. 

"It  is  difficult  for  some,"  replied  Dallas.  "  But  the 
difficulty  is  chiefly  a  matter  of  brain  and  power.  Have 
you  a  mind  to  try  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Why  ?  "  asked  Godfrey,  almost  suspiciously. 

"I  thought  you  were  interested,  and  you  have  many 
points  in  your  favor." 

"What  are  those  ?  "  asked  the  cripple,  in  a  brighter 
tone. 

"Education,  reflection,  patience,  a  power  of  con- 
centrated thought,  perseverance,  determination  to  gain 
a  given  end." 

"How  do  you  tell  that?"  asked  the  other  very 
sharply.  "  Do  I  carry  my  character,  like  a  swineherd 
of  old,  on  my  neck  ?  It  is  true  I  have  determination.  I 
have  never  yet  been  thwarted  in  a  single  aim.  I  would 
not  be."  His  manner  had  changed  suddenly  to  a  sharp, 
suspicious  tone.  "  I  suppose  all  are  like  me  in  that.  I 
cannot  brook  interference.  I  must  have  my  way.  I 
feel  I  will  have  it ;  and  I  can  hold  out  long  enough  to 
gain  any  end.  Is  that  strength  or  weakness  ?  " 

"  It  is  both,"  answered  Dallas.    "  Strength  in  a  fam- 


Ube  Greatest  (Bfft  4i 

ily  circle,  but  weakness  in  the  world  outside  ;  yet  often 
a  powerful  help  to  get  what  you  want." 

The  other  laughed — a  short,  unpleasant  laugh. 

"  The  family  circle  is  my  world,"  he  said.  Then, 
after  a  long  pause,  "I  should  like  to  try  to  write. 
Could  you  help  me  ?  " 

"There  is  no  royal  road.  If  you  have  it  in  you,  it 
will  come  out.  If  you  haven't,  you  can't  force  it,  like 
grapes,  or  pines^  or  strawberries.  But  I  can  help  you 
so  far  that  I  will  be  gardener.  Send  me  a  sample  or 
two,  and  I'll  try  to  see  whether  it's  fruit  or  not ;  and  if 
so  whether  forced  or  natural." 

"  I  will,"  and  impetuously  he  held  out  his  hand,  but 
then  seemed  ashamed  of  his  boyish  impulsiveness.  Yet 
Dallas  had  done  much  for  him  by  putting  a  new  motive 
into  his  life,  and  in  a  way  he  felt  it. 

As  for  Dallas  he  was  more  interested  in  the  cripple 
than  ever. 

As  Dallas  and  Alan  Ramsay  drove  home  that  night, 
the  former  listened  quietly  to  Alan's  raptures  about 
Margery,  and  gave  his  opinion  like  a  loyal  friend. 

"  And  the  captain,  too  ;  he's  a  grand  old  fellow,  isn't 
he  ?  "  asked  Alan,  pleased  at  his  friend's  praise  of  Mar- 
gery. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Dallas,  agreeing  cordially.  "  He  is, 
as  you  say,  a  grand  old  fellow.  And  I  suppose  he  is 
as  happy  as  he  is  jovial  and  good,  eh?  " 

"Rather.  Just  the  best  and  breeziest  mortal  pos- 
sible." 

"  Has  he  any  secret  bothers  ?  I  fancied  so  once  or 
twice." 

"Worries?    No.     Steady,  mare,  steady.     Worries?" 


42  Ube  Greatest  Gift 

and  Alan  laughed.  "  Rather  not,  with  Margery  to  look 
after  him.  She  takes  care  of  him,  I  can  tell  you." 

Then  followed  more  rhapsodies. 

"The  other  girl  seems  a  bright,  pleasant,  thoughtful 
body,  too,"  said  Dallas. 

"What,  Nan?  Oh,  yes.  She's  a  good  little  soul. 
Fond  of  the  captain,  too.  But  there,''  he  said,  with  a 
laugh,  "  no  one  seems  to  think  of  Nan  when  Margery's 
about — except  Margery  herself,  you  know,"  and  he 
went  off  again. 

"  Do  you  think  Godfrey  cares  for  Miss  Nan  ?  "  asked 
Dallas. 

"What?"  exclaimed  Alan,  laughing  rather  boister- 
ously. "  Godfrey  care  for  Nan  ?  No.  Poor  beggar  ; 
bless  you,  he'll  never  marry." 

"  Why  not  ?  He's  flesh  and  blood,  nerves  and  pas- 
sions like  the  rest  of  us,  isn't  he  ?  Aye,  and  strong  ones, 
too.  He'd  be  an  awkward  rival  in  the  household,"  he 
added,  hinting  at  what  he  thought  he  had  observed. 

"Eh?  What?  Are  you — "  he  stopped  and  laughed. 
"That's  looking  ahead  a  bit,  by  Jove,  after  the  very 
first  call  Oh,  no,"  he  said  dryly,  "I  don't  think  God- 
frey cares  for  Nan  ;  so  he  won't  be  a  rival  in  the  house 
for  any  one  who  does  that."  Then  he  laughed  again, 
"  No  more  chance  with  her  than  with  Margery." 

Dallas  let  him  have  the  laugh,  saying  nothing,  but 
letting  the  misconstruction  pass  unchallenged  though 
not  unobserved. 

"  I  do  pity  that  poor  beggar,"  said  Alan,  after  a 
pause. 

"  I  wouldn't  let  him  know  it,  then,"  answered  Dallas. 
"  His  is  not  the  sort  of  mind  that  swallows  pity  easily." 


tbe  (Breateat  <Wft  43 

"You  asked  whether  the  captain  had  troubles," 
said  Alan.  "Of  course  poor  Godfrey's  twisted  back 
is  a  trouble  to  him.  He  worships  him,  I  think.  I 
know  Margery  has  told  me  no  end  of  things  to  show 
that.  And  the  poor  fellow  is  so  odd  with  it ;  I  suppose 
he  can't  help  it.  So  morbid.  Gets  away  and  mopes 
by  himself  sometimes  for  hours  together.  Then,  at 
other  times,  he'll  lead  the  whole  place  a  dance  if  he 
can't  get  just  what  he  wants  precisely  when  and  how 
he  wants  it." 

"  Yes,  I  should  think  he  has  a  pretty  stubborn  will. 
He's  been  about  spoilt." 

"  Spoilt !  By  Jove,  I  should  think  he  has.  There's 
not  a  blessed  thing  in  the  house  or  out  of  it,  that  every 
one  of  them  would  not  strive  all  they  know  to  get  for 
him  if  they  could.  He  gets  ill,  now  and  then,  and  the 
whole  house  is  at  once  all  topsy-turvy,  and  one  can't 
get  a  word  in  edgeways.  Margery  won't  leave  the 
place.  She  knows  how  the  old  captain  dotes  on  him, 
and  how  much  more  he  thinks  of  anything  done  for 
Godfrey  than  done  for  himself,  that  she  won't  budge." 

"Ah,  then  he  would  be  an  awkward  rival,"  said 
Dallas  again. 

"Don't  be  afraid,  Hugh,"  said  his  friend,  with  an- 
other laugh.  "That's  all  right.  Margery  would  have 
told  me,  you  know.  She  has  no  secrets  of  that  kind," 
and  the  subject  started  him  again. 

"  H'm  !  All  roads  lead  to  Rome,  I  see,"  said  Dallas 
quietly.  "And  all  topics  round  to  one  subject/'  and 
he  laughed. 

Soon  after  that  they  drove  into  the  village  of  Gar- 
thorne,  and  reached  Alan's  home. 


CHAPTER  III. 

AFTER  Alan  and  Hugh  had  left  the  Manor  House,  it 
was  natural  enough  that  a  word  or  two  should  be  said 
about  Dallas.  The  opinions  were  favorable,  and  God- 
frey Drury,  who  very  rarely  made  a  friend,  agreed  with 
the  general  verdict. 

"I  like  the  lad  well,"  said  old  John  Drury  plainly. 
"  I  think  he's  staunch,  genuine,  and  clever  ;  and  he  is 
certainly  fond  of  Alan." 

"I  don't  know  how  it  was,  but  I  did  not  have  as 
much  conversation  with  him  as  you  all  seem  to  have 
had,"  said  Margery.  "I  declare  Godfrey  had  quite  a 
confidential  talk." 

"He  is  not  like  other  men,"  said  the  cripple.  "  I 
like  him,  too.  He  seems  quick  and  shrewd  at  under- 
standing one.  He  is  a  great  talker.'* 

"  But  also  a  good  listener,"  said  Margery.  "When- 
ever I  noticed  him,  he  seemed  to  be  listening  to  some- 
body else." 

"Alan  thinks  no  end  of  him,"  put  in  Donald  Ram- 
say. 

"He  plays  a  clinking  good  game  at  tennis,"  said 
Guy,  "  and  billiards,  too,  by  gum." 

"And  what's  your  verdict,  Nan  ?"  said  Margery, 
turning  to  the  girl  who  had  been  listening  to  them 
all.  , 

"I  think  he's  very  clever,  and,  what  Godfrey  says, 
44 


ftbe  Greatest  6ift.  45 

sympathetic.  He's  so  quick  to  see  what  you  are 
thinking  and  what  you  want." 

'''  Sympathetic' — h'm,"  coughed  Guy,  in  his  teasing 
falsetto  ;  and  he  nodded  his  head  gravely  and  warn- 
ingly  at  Donald. 

Nan  pretended  to  see  nothing  of  this  ;  but  in  spite 
of  her  air  of  unconcerned  dignity,  her  face  grew  a  little 
red.  Thinking  then  that  it  would  be  very  undignified 
to  be  caught  blushing,  she  said  that  she  was  tired  and 
bade  them  all  good  night  and  went  away  to  bed. 

The  boys  followed,  and  the  other  three  sat  talking, 
the  captain  being  in  very  good  spirits. 

At  first  the  cripple,  who  rarely  spoke  much,  even 
when  alone  with  his  father  and  Margery,  took  a  quite 
unwonted  share  in  the  talk  and  showed  great  interest, 
but  gradually  it  waned,  and  his  customary  silence  and 
reserve  checked  him. 

Then  Margery  set  herself  with  careful  tact  to  draw 
him  to  speak,  choosing  those  subjects  in  which  she 
knew  he  was  most  interested,  and  appealing  ever  and 
again  to  him  for  his  opinion. 

In  this  way  she  rallied  him,  and  then,  when  the 
talk  had  circled  again  to  Hugh  Dallas,  she  turned  with 
a  smile,  and  laying  her  hand  on  his  arm,  said  : 

"  By  the  by,  Master  Godfrey,  that  reminds  me  I 
have  to  scold  you.  Where  did  you  get  away  to  twice 
to-day  when  we  wanted  you  ;  once  this  afternoon  and 
again  this  evening  ?  I  looked  around  for  you  and  you 
had  run  away." 

"I  did  not  think  you  wanted  me,"  he  answered. 
"You  all  seemed  so  occupied  and — and  I  did  not  want 
to  disturb  you." 


46  tbe  Greatest 

1 '  Now,  I  have  a  good  mind  to  be  angry  with  you 
in  earnest.  Would  you  believe  it,  uncle  ?  Godfrey  the 
Unsociable  thought  our  conversation  so  much  beneath 
his  notice  that  he  would  not  stop  when  we  particularly 
wanted  him,  but  stole  away  when  no  one  was  look- 
ing, and  actually  had  to  be  found  and  brought  back 
by  Mr.  Dallas.  There  !  " 

Both  old  John  and  Margery  knew  that  Godfrey's 
reason  for  this  had  probably  been  the  morbid  feeling 
on  his  part  that  he  was  not  wanted — a  feeling  that  was 
like  a  canker  in  his  life. 

"  Scold  him,  Margery,  scold  him,"  cried  the  old  man, 
looking  affectionately  at  his  son  and  rubbing  his  hands 
and  laughing  to  the  girl. 

"  I  have  a  good  mind  to  call  him  disagreeable  and 
selfish  ;  should  I,  uncle?"  laughed  Margery  sweetly. 

"Scold  him  well,  Madge,"  said  old  John  again. 

"I  have  a  good  mind  to  tell  him  that  the  next  time 
he  does  it,  if  he  ever  does  do  it  again,  I  will  send  him 
to  Coventry,  disown  him  as  a  brother,  and  never  speak 
to  him  again.  Should  I,  uncle  ?  "  asked  the  girl. 

'  Scold  him,  Madge,  scold  him.  Call  him  a  rascal," 
and  the  old  man  laughed  till  the  tears  came  into  his 
eyes,  brought  there  half  by  the  present  fun,  and  half 
by  the  consciousness  of  the  real  cause  of  Godfrey's 
conduct. 

"There,  sir,"  said  Margery,  pointing  her  finger  at 
Godfrey.  "You  hear  what  uncle  says  I'm  to  do. 
Now,  I'm  going  to  do  it.  You — are — a —  Now,  I'll  be- 
gin again.  You — are — a —  I've  a  good  mind  to  call 
you  a  rascal.  And  I  would,  too,  if  it  weren't  for  the 
absurdity  of  supposing  that  the  son  of  my  dear  old 


Ube  Greatest  Offt.  tf 

uncle  could  possibly  be  such  a  thing."  And  she  went 
and  knelt  at  old  John's  knee  and  laid  her  face  on  his 
hand  and  kissed  it.  "But  that's  all  that  stops  me," 
she  said,  raising  her  face  and  looking  across  at  God- 
frey. 

"That's  right,  Madge;  scold  him,  scold  him,"  said 
old  John,  stroking  her  hair. 

"We  won't  have  anything  more  to  say  to  him,  will 
we,  uncle,  until  he  says  he's  sorry,  and  begs  my  par- 
don ?  We  are  not  going  to  let  him  treat  us  as  he 
pleases,  and  come  to  us  and  leave  us  just  as  he  likes. 
Look  you,  Godfrey  the  Unruly,  the  sentence  of  the 
Court  is  that  you  beg  my  pardon  directly,  and  promise 
never  to  do  it  again.  Oh,  I  can  be  a  judge,  and  a 
stern  one  too,  I  tell  you.  Can't  I,  uncle  ?  " 

"Yes,  my  pretty  one,  of  course  you  can." 

"So  now,  Godfrey  the  Unruly,  what  plead  you  ?  " 

Godfrey  had  sat  silent  all  the  time,  drinking  in  the 
tones  of  her  voice,  delighting  in  her  mere  presence, 
charmed  by  her  mood,  and  full  of  his  deep  secret  love 
for  her. 

"I  plead  guilty,  fair  Portia,"  he  said.  "I  promise 
amendment;  I  crave  pardon,  and  throw  myself  on  the 
mercy  of  the  Court."  He  spoke  with  gravity. 

"Uncle,  you  hear  that.  He  calls  me  Portia.  Isn't 
that  as  much  as  to  admit  himself  a  veritable  Shylock  ! 
Can  I  pardon  a  Shylock,  uncle  ? "  asked  Margery. 

"I  urge  upon  the  Court,"  said  Godfrey,  "that  the 
terms  of  my  pardon  were  set  forth  by  the  Court  her- 
self." 

"That's  true,  Madge  Portia.  He  may  claim  the 
bond,"  said  the  captain,  smiling. 


48  Ube  Greatest  Ottt 

"Ah,  but  then  he  had  not  made  confession  nor  ad- 
mitted he  was  Shylock. " 

"Reasoned  like  a  woman,  Madge.1*  You  named  the 
terms  yourself  and  are  bound,  when  they  are  complied 
with,  as  you  know  you  are,  you  little  quibbler." 

"  Well  then,  know  you,  Godfrey  the  Unruly,"  said 
Margery,  kissing  the  old  man  fondly  and  rising, 
"  the  Court  has  taken  counsel  on  the  subject  of  your 
plea — ' 

"Take  counsel  again,  Madge,"  interrupted  the  cap- 
tain. 

"Taken  counsel  and  hath  again  conferred,"  went 
on  the  young  girl,  kissing  her  uncle  several  times  and 
smiling,  "  and  hath  determined  to  accept  your  plea. 
The  Court  hath  decreed  that  in  future  you  must  not, 
under  penalty  of  losing  the  love  the  Court  doth  bear 
you,  neglect  to  attend  upon  the  Court  whenever  she 
desires  it.  You  must  not  linger  by  yourself,  nor  deem 
yourself  too  great  for  others'  company.  See  that  you 
regard  the  Court's  commands.  And  now,  in  token  of 
the  good-will  that  the  Court  doth  bear  you,  it  is  here 
decreed  that  the  title  of  Unruly  shall  be  no  more  ap- 
plied to  you,  and  that  in  place  thereof  you  shall  be 
known  as  Godfrey,  Margery's  brother.  The  Court  to 
this  decree  doth  hereby  set  her  seal." 
-  With  these  words  she  went  to  him  and  kissed  him 
on  the  forehead,  saying: 

' '  The  Court  salutes  you,  brother  Godfrey.  And  now 
the  Court,  being  uncommonly  tired,  will  go  to  bed — I 
mean  adjourn.  Good  night,  uncle.  Couldn't  I  play 
Portia  ? " 

She  kissed  the  old  man  two  or  three  times,  putting 


Ufoe  Greatest  Gift,  49 

her  arms  lovingly  round  his  neck,  then  shook  hands 
with  "brother  Godfrey/'  and  left  the  room. 

The  kiss  had  been  a  very  simple  action,  simply  done  ; 
and  the  very  openness  with  which  it  had  been  given 
showed  how  innocent  and  sisterly  ithad  been.  But  the 
girl's  breath  on  his  forehead,  and  the  touch  of  her  lips,  had 
sent  Godfrey's  blood  coursing  through  his  veins  with 
violence  enough  to  almost  burst  them.  As  soon  as 
she  had  gone  he  bade  his  father  good  night,  and  went 
to  his  room  to  brood  over  his  secret  passion,  and  won- 
der what  the  end  would  be. 

The  captain  sat  on  for  some  little  time,  and  pres- 
ently, lighting  a  cigar,  stepped  out  into  the  grounds. 
This  was  always  his  custom,  and  he  generally  ran 
over  in  thought  at  such  times  the  events  of  the  day. 

To-night,  the  closing  scene,  where  Margery  had  so 
gently  rebuked  Godfrey  for  his  conduct  during  the 
day,  gave  the  current  to  his  thoughts,  and  it  bore  him 
rapidly  to  that  subject — his  boy's  infirmity  both  of 
body  and  mind — which  formed  the  sorrow  of  his 
life. 

He  was  a  gallant  soul,  and  he  sought  always  to  hide 
from  others  the  intense  grief  which  this  was  to  him. 
No  one,  not  even  watchful,  loving  Margery,  had 
gauged  its  depth,  or  guessed  all  that  it  meant  to  him. 
It  had  gloomed  his  life,  and  all  his  struggles  against  its 
influence  had  not  brought  him  ease.  He  had  tried  to 
force  himself  to  believe  that  he  had  much  to  be  grate- 
ful for  in  the  fact  that  the  boy's  life  had  been  spared, 
but  there  were  moments  when  he  could  not  but  repine. 

Himself  endowed  with  great  physical  strength  and 
health,  and  with  a  mind  of  singularly  robust  purity 


50  ttbe  Greatest  Gift. 

and  openness,  the  boy's  weakness  of  frame  and  mor- 
bidness of  mind  were  unutterably  painful  to  him. 
Added  to  this,  there  was  always  before  him  the  dread 
possibility  that  Godfrey's  mind  might  give  way,  and 
this  increased  the  burden  of  the  sorrow  infinitely. 

To-night  the  fear  was  on  him  as  he  paced  up  and 
down  the  terrace  which  ran  along  the  front  of  the 
house,  and  he  might  have  carried  something  of  the 
sadness  indoors  had  it  not  been  that  he  heard  the 
strains  of  Margery's  full,  rich  voice  ringing  out  through 
her  open  window  on  the  soft  warm  night  air  as  she 
sang  to  herself. 

He  stood  still  and  listened  until  the  song  ended,  and 
a  sense  of  the  soothing  comfort  which  the  girl  had 
brought  into  his  life,  like  the  touch  of  cool  fingers  on 
the  heated  brow  of  a  fever-stricken  patient  stole  over 
him.  He  sighed,  and  then  smiled  to  himself  as  he 
murmured  her  name. 

Margery,  indeed,  appeared  to  be  in  the  highest 
spirits. 

Although  the  "Court  "had  pleaded  being  tired,  yet 
there  was  small  attempt  made  to  go  to  bed.  When 
she  reached  her  room  she  let  down  her  hair.  She  had 
beautiful  hair,  nut-brown  in  color,  and  so  thick  and 
plentiful  that  the  uncoiled  tresses  lay  around  her  head 
and  shoulders,  reaching  in  their  luxuriant  profusion 
far  below  her  waist.  Leaning  back  in  a  low  reclining 
chair,  she  began  to  read. 

But  after  a  very  few  pages  the  print  faded  gradually 
from  her  eyes,  the  book  fell  upon  her  lap,  and  she  sat 
wrapped  in  thought.  Pleasant  thought,  too,  to  judge 
by  the  happy  expression  on  her  face. 


tTbe  Greatest  <Wft  Bi 

By  and  by  she  rose,  and,  going  to  a  drawer,  she 
brought  out  an  old  desk,  from  which,  after  she  had  un- 
locked it,  she  took  a  small  packet  tied  with  a  piece  of 
faded  silk.  This  she  carried  back  to  her  chair,  singing 
the  while  the  air  of  a  favorite  song.  While  singing 
she  untied  the  little  packet,  and  laid  the  contents  one 
by  one  on  her  lap  with  tender  care. 

It  was  a  weak,  commonplace  kind  of  action  for  a 
heroine.  But  it  was  to  her  a  great  pleasure,  for  each 
of  the  little  common  things  in  the  packet — the  faded 
forget-me-not,  the  dead  rose-leaves,  the  small  Indian 
coin,  the  silver  chain,  and  the  photograph — was  treas- 
ured by  her  for  its  association  with  Alan  Ramsay, 
and  was  guarded  with  all  the  zealous  care  of  love. 

Given  long  before  in  an  idle  hour,  and  without  much 
thought  on  the  part  of  the  giver  at  the  time,  they  had 
all  been  kept  by  her  as  relics. 

Undemonstrative  as  she  was,  there  was  a  power  of 
love  in  her  heart,  and  she  had  given  it  ungrudgingly 
to  Alan.  She  knew  this  well,  and  believed  that  her 
love  was  returned.  Thus  when  she  dreamed  of  the 
future,  as  she  often  would,  and  built  her  castle  in  the 
air — only  a  modest  one — the  center  figure  was  always 
Alan.  Her  dream  was  ever  of  a  happy,  contented, 
quiet  life,  in  which,  with  Alan  at  her  side,  she  would 
lead  much  the  same  existence  she  had  hitherto  led,  but 
under  changed  circumstances. 

The  chief  difficulty  she  had  in  planning  it  all  out  was 
in  regard  to  her  uncle.  She  had  for  him  all  the  love 
and  reverence  of  a  daughter.  She  knew  his  open, 
kindly  nature,  his  never-ending  generosity,  his  con- 
stant sympathy  with  all  that  were  distressed  or  in 


52  ttbe  Greatest  (Bift 

trouble.  She  knew,  too,  how  much  he  loved  her,  and 
how  much  more  she  was  to  him  even  than  Nan.  The 
one  cloud  on  the  horizon  was  the  fear  that  he  might 
be  distressed  when  the  time  came  for  her  to  leave  the 
Manor  House. 

But  then,  of  course,  Alan  had  also  to  be  considered, 
and  thus  her  heart  seemed  a  divided  allegiance  which 
she  did  not  know  how  to  reconcile. 

And  that  day,  as  they  stood  in  the  rosery,  Alan  had 
spoken  even  more  plainly  than  ever.  She  blushed  with 
happy  confusion  as  she  recalled  his  words,  and  thus 
she  toyed  with  her  little  treasures  as  she  laid  bare  her 
thoughts — and  pleasant,  sweet  thoughts  they  were — 
to  herself. 

Alan  was  so  good.  He  always  seemed  to  know 
what  she  would  wish  him  to  do.  He  had  spoken  to- 
day of  much  that  he  meant  to  do  in  Garlhorne,  and  he 
always  associated  her  with  himself  in  the  plans,  giving 
her  the  credit.  As  if  it  was  not  his  own  clever  self  who 
always  worked  out  the  crude  ideas  which  she  formed. 

She  smiled  sweetly  at  this  thought. 

He  had  been  telling  her  so  much  of  what  he  had 
planned  to  do,  and  had  been  asking  her  advice  in  a 
way  that  was  simply  delightful.  He  seemed  always 
to  put  her  foremost  in  his  thoughts,  and  to  have  but 
one  desire — how  to  please  her. 

Ah  !  there  was  no  one  like  her  Alan  ;  none  so  hand- 
some and  brave  and  strong  ;  no  one  who  could  look 
as  he  had  looked  that  day  in  the  rosery,  who  could 
make  her  heart  go  rushing  on  so  furiously  ;  no  one 
who  could  rouse  in  her  a  thousandth  part  of  the  emo- 
tions that  thrilled  her  in  his  presence. 


Ube  Greatest  (Bift  53 

As  Margery  thought  of  all  this,  she  drew  her  hair 
over  her  bosom,  where  it  lay  like  a  dark  coil,  and  tak- 
ing the  photograph  of  her  lover  in  one  hand,  while 
playing  with  a  stray  tress  with  the  other,  she  kissed  the 
likeness  once  or  twice  as  she  leant  back  in  her  chair. 

"Ah,  Alan,  Alan,"  she  exclaimed  softly  to  herself, 
"There  never  was  such  a  bonny  lad  before  in  the 
world,  I  believe.  So  kind,  so  true,  and  so  good  ! " 
Then  with  a  sigh  of  pleasure  she  added  :  "What  a 
happy  girl  I  am,  that  all  my  world  join  in  trying  to 
give  me  pleasure  !  " 

Then,  she  began  to  sing  again,  now  softly,  kissed 
the  photograph  once  more,  put  away  the  little  treasures, 
and  kissed  the  packet  once  as  she  placed  it  again  in 
the  old  desk.  That  old  desk  was  the  only  thing  she 
had  which  had  belonged  to  her  dead  mother,  and  was 
thus  a  fitting  garner  for  such  tokens.  Then  she  made 
ready  for  bed,  to  continue  in  tangled  dream  fashion 
the  sweet  thoughts  which  formed  her  lullaby. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

SOME  four  or  five  miles  from  Seacove  stood  an  old 
ruined  abbey,  held  in  high  esteem  in  that  district  for 
its  picturesqueness,  and  it  was  arranged  by  the  young 
people  that  they  should  have  a  walk  to  the  place  on 
the  Sunday  afternoon. 

Alan  had  been  eager  for.  the  walk,  as  he  was  anxious 
to  resume  that  most  interesting  conversation  in  the 
middle  of  which  he  had  been  interrupted  on  the  Satur- 
day afternoon.  This  was  the  more  necessary,  as  he 
was  booked  to  leave  home  on  the  following  day  for  a 
yachting  engagement. 

But  the  plan  miscarried,  the  unconscious  marplot 
being  the  old  captain.  Instead  of  taking  his  accus- 
tomed afternoon  nap,  he  declared  his  intention  of 
going  with  the  young  people,  and  it  was  a  thoroughly 
understood  arrangement  that,  whenever  he  went  for 
a  walk,  Margery  was  always  by  his  side. 

Moreover,  as  his  object  in  going  with  them  was  to 
see  more  of  Hugh  Dallas,  to  whom  he  had  taken  a 
very  great  liking,  the  result  was  that  he  and  Margery 
and  Hugh  walked  together  all  the  time,  being  occa- 
sionally joined  by  Godfrey.  Nor  was  Margery  herself 
apparently  averse  from  this  arrangement,  as  she  had 
grown  suddenly  half-afraid  of  Alan,  after  the  experience 
of  the  previous  day. 

It  seemed  only  a  trivial  circumstance  that  the  little 
54 


Ube  Greatest  Otft  55 

party  should  have  been  divided  in  this  particular  way  ; 
but  it  led  to  great  consequences  to  all.  It  was  just 
one  of  those  thin  shavings  that  Fate  uses  with  such 
perverse  dexterity  to  drive  human  plans  awry. 

The  first  result  was  that  Alan  had  to  leave  for  his 
yachting  visit  without  coming  to  any  understanding 
with  Margery  more  than  was  to  be  inferred  from  the 
conversation  in  the  rosery. 

On  the  walk  there  was  little  of  importance,  beyond 
one  small  incident  which  gave  Hugh  Dallas  further  in- 
sight into  the  strange  character  of  the  cripple. 

As  the  party  were  returning,  Dallas,  whose  town 
limbs  began  to  tire  quickly,  said  thoughtlessly  to  God- 
frey, who  was  at  the  moment  at  his  side  : 

"  Are  you  not  tired,  Mr.   Godfrey  ?  " 

A  flush  of  mortification  rushed  into  the  cripple's  face, 
who  read  in  the  words  a  slighting  reference  to  his 
physical  weakness,  and  before  he  could  restrain  his 
temper  he  made  a  short  and  angry  answer. 

Hugh  Dallas  noted  quickly  the  train  of  thought  he 
had  set  up. 

"There,  that's  just  the  kind  of  stupidity  we  towns- 
men show,"  he  answered  readily  and  tactfully.  "We 
always  think  that  other  people  must  be  like  ourselves  ; 
and  so,  just  because  my  legs  were  beginning  to 
question  me  as  to  when  we  were  going  to  reach  the 
end  of  this  tremendously  long  lane,  and  my  feet  were 
crying  out  that  they  had  had  enough,  I  thought  every- 
body would  be  the  same.  But  you  folk  who  live  out 
here  think  nothing,  I  suppose,  of  a  walk  which  makes 
us  townsfolk  dog  tired.  Are  you  all  better  walkers 
than- 1  ? " 


56  Ube  Greatest  Gift. 

It  was  thoughtfully  said,  and  the  captain  noticed  it. 

"I'm  tired,"  he  said  readily. 

"So  am  I,"  said  Margery.  "But  I  don't  think  any 
distance  ever  tires  Godfrey.  He's  a  great  walker." 
And  then  she  went  on  to  tell  of  some  very  long  dis- 
tances which  he  had  walked  ;  and  in  this  way  the  inci- 
dent passed. 

The  captain  had  seen  with  pleasure  the  way  in 
which  Dallas  had  turned  the  conversation  round,  and 
anything  which  was  kindly  meant  toward  Godfrey 
touched  a  very  soft  spot  in  his  heart.  Dallas  rose 
several  degrees  in  his  esteem. 

He  himself  was  always  looking  out  for  some  means 
of  giving  Godfrey  pleasure,  and  he  was  often  sorely 
troubled  what  to  do  to  carry  out  his  wishes  in  regard 
to  him. 

His  was  a  nature  of  action.  He  was  not  given  to 
thoughtful  analysis.  When  a  thing  distressed  or  af- 
fected him,  he  wanted  to  find  a  remedy  at  once.  Thus, 
when  any  one  came  to  him  in  trouble,  he  relieved 
them  to  the  best  of  his  power  at  once.  Generosity 
and  kindness  were  instincts  with  him.  He  looked 
on  his  money  thus  as  a  blessed  means  put  into  his 
hands  for  the  purpose  of  relieving  those  who  were  less 
fortunately  situated  than  he  himself  in  the  world. 

But  with  incurable  mental  trouble  he  was  at  a  loss. 
If  a  man  came  to  him  out  of  work,  he  found  work  for 
him.  If  there  were  sickness  in  any  home,  he  had  food 
and  medicine  taken  to  it.  But  if  the  hand  of  death  had 
fallen  on  a  household,  and  stricken  the  members  with 
inconsolable  bereavement,  then  it  was  Margery  who 
must  go.  He  could  feel  for  the  troubled  till  his  heart 


Ube  Greatest  ©ift.  57 

ached  with  sympathy  ;  but  when  no  means  of  practical 
relief  were  at  hand,  he  was  only  likely  to  increase  the 
others'  grief  by  the  plainness  with  which  he  showed 
his  own  sorrow  for  them. 

It  was  Margery  then  on  whom  he  relied.  She 
seemed  to  know  just  what  to  say  and  what  to  do,  and 
to  carry  with  her  in  a  marvelous  manner  the  power  of 
silent  consolation.  And  the  old  man  leant  on  her  at 
such  times. 

But  with  his  son  he  had  no  such  support.  He  knew 
that  Godfrey  was  not  happy,  and  feared  that  there  was 
some  secret  sorrow.  He  would  have  given  much  to 
learn  its  nature,  but  was  utterly  at  a  loss  how  to  do 
this.  Of  himself  he  could  not  decide  whether  there 
was  really  a  secret  grief  in  the  lad's  mind,  or  whether 
the  gloom  which  seemed  to  hang  over  his  life  were 
only  the  result  of  some  morbidness  which  he  might 
have  inherited  from  his  mother.  This  was  just  one  of 
those  problems  which  he  was  completely  unfitted  to 
discover  ;  and  yet  the  lack  of  the  knowledge  preyed 
upon  him  constantly. 

He  felt  that  Godfrey's  future  might  to  a  large  extent 
depend  on  the  answer  to  that  question  ;  and  yet  he 
dared  not  seek  the  help  of  any  one  in  solving  it,  since 
he  would  not  tell  to  any  one  the  secret  of  Godfrey's 
childhood.  He  had  sometimes  put  a  question  or  two 
to  Margery  and  to  Nan  ;  but  their  answers  had  only 
succeeded  in  increasing  his  uncertainty. 

The  question  he  wanted  to  put  was  whether  God- 
frey's humor  was  in  anyway  to  be  looked  on  as  likely 
to  lead  to  insanity  if  not  dealt  with  in  the  proper  way, 
or  whether  it  was  no  more  than  the  sadness  which 


58  tTbe  Greatest  (Sift. 

might  be  the  not  unnatural  result  which  physical  de- 
formity might  have  on  such  a  nature  as  Godfrey's. 
But  that  blunt  statement  of  the  difficulty  he  scarcely 
used  even  to  himself.  Yet  he  felt  that  on  the  method 
of  dealing  with  his  son's  peculiar  disposition  might 
depend  his  whole  happiness  in  the  future. 

It  was  with  the  thoughts  which  this  difficulty  always 
raised  in  his  mind  that  he  had  observed  the  manner  in 
which  Hugh  Dallas  had  seemed  to  draw  Godfrey  to 
him  ;  and  it  was  with  a  half  hope  that  Dallas  might  be 
in  some  way  able  to  help  in  the  solution  of  the  diffi- 
culty that  when  the  two  friends  were  leaving  the 
Manor  House,  after  the  walk,  the  captain  pressed  Dal- 
las to  visit  them  and  so  stay  with  them  if  possible — an 
invitation  which  he  was  glad  to  find  Godfrey  seconding. 

Dallas  on  his  side  promised  readily  ;  and  as  he 
chanced  to  see  a  very  pleasant  smile  on  Nan's  face  just 
as  he  spoke,  he  thought  to  himself  what  exceedingly 
friendly  people  they  all  were. 

In  the  evening  the  captain  took  up  the  thread  of 
thoughts  which  had  been  thus  started,  and,  as  he  was 
having  his  last  cigar,  began  to  speculate  whether  it 
would  be  possible  for  him  to  obtain  Dallas's  co-opera- 
tion in  finding  out  the  secret  which  lay  behind  God- 
frey's depression. 

Chance  was  to  succeed,  however,  where  all  his  kind- 
ness and  loving  thought  had  failed. 

Closely  as  the  captain  had  watched  Godfrey,  and 
well  as  he  thought  he  knew  the  latter's  nature,  he  had 
in  fact  only  a  vague  idea  of  the  depths  of  passion  and 
bitterness,  which  filled  the  young  fellow's  life.  The 
deformity  of  Godfrey's  body  was  but  an  outward  indica- 


Ube  Greatest  (Bift  59 

tion  of  a~still  greater  deformity  of  mind.  He  knew  that 
he  was  a  hopeless  cripple,  though  ignorant  of  the  cause  ; 
and  the  knowledge  was  the  canker  of  his  life.  Nature 
had  given  him  a  singularly  handsome  face— as  nearly 
beautiful  as  a  man's  face  could  be — and  a  mind  which  in 
a  more  comely  body  might  have  been  capable  of  notable 
achievements.  But  he  was  morbidly  supersensitive. 
He  had  within  him  an  unbounded  capacity  for  physical 
enjoyment,  and  yet  he  was  a  cripple.  He  was  men- 
tally endowed  beyond  the  majority  of  his  fellows,  and 
yet  felt  himself  less  than  the  least  of  them.  His  sensi- 
tiveness never  suffered  him  to  be  free  from  the  con- 
sciousness of  his  deformity,  and  he  was  possessed  by 
a  galling  sense  of  his  inferiority  to  other  men.  This 
was  like  a  mental  plague,  poisoning  every  chance  of 
happiness.  Morbidly  hateful  of  pity,  he  could  yet  read 
nothing  but  pity  in  others'  thoughts  of  him,  and  could 
find  no  other  motive  for  any  act  of  kindness  shown  to 
him.  He  was  thus  haunted  by  a  knowledge  of  what 
he  could  have  accomplished  had  he  not  been  a  cripple, 
and  his  mind  was  often  filled  with  vague  fanciful  long- 
ings from  which  he  felt  himself  cut  off  by  his  deformity. 
Life  was  robbed  of  all  its  salt  ;  and  anticipation  was 
always  either  a  dread  or  a  pain. 

To  such  a  nature  love  could  bring  no  pleasure  ;  and 
the  passion  which  he  felt  for  Margery  was  only  a 
source  of  added  mental  pain. 

The  morbid  exaggeration  of  self  to  which  his  in- 
firmity had  led  prevented  him  from  approaching  the 
higher  emotions  of  love.  With  him  it  was  an  intensely 
concentrated  and  passionate  longing  to  possess  and 
enjoy  something  which  was  denied  to  him.  All  his  life 


eo  Ube  Greatest  (Bfft. 

was  in  his  love  ;  and  the  flame  burned  the  more  fiercely 
because  it  was  fed  from  the  secret  store  of  selfish 
yearning. 

Yet  he  loved  absolutely  without  hope  ;  and  all  the 
hopelessness  he  set  down  to  his  misshapen  body. 
And  when  that  feeling  held  him  strongly,  his  misery 
and  despair  were  almost  frenzied. 

During  the  days  which  followed  the  visit  of  the  two 
friends  this  sense  of  utter  hopelessness  was  especially 
oppressive,  and  he  stayed  much  alone  brooding  cease- 
lessly over  his  grief.  The  captain  noticed  this  and 
wondered  what  was  the  cause,  but  Godfrey  made  no 
sign. 

With  the  others,  the  cripple  made  a  feeble  effort  to 
shake  off  the  depression,  and  when  Margery  asked  him 
one  day,  gently  and  thoughtfully  after  her  wont,  why 
he  kept  from  them,  and  whether  anything  was  the 
matter,  he  tried  to  turn  away  the  question  with  a 
smile  as  he  answered  in  the  negative. 

"I  know  what  it  is.  lean  guess  your  secret," 
cried  Nan,  laughing. 

He  turned  very  quickly  and  looked  at  her,  almost  as 
if  in  alarm.  He  had  always  feared  that  her  quick  eyes 
might  pierce  his  secret. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  asked,  his  cheek  reddening. 

"You've  been  set  off  by  Mr.  Dallas,  and  are  writing 
a  book  or  an  article.  That's  why  you  spend  so  many 
hours  in  your  room  alone.  He  means  to  surprise  us 
all  one  day,"  she  added,  turning  to  the  others. 

"You  are  very  sharp,  Nan,"  he  said,  relieved  by  the 
girl's  words,  and  not  unwilling  to  have  his  absences 
thus  accounted  for. 


Greatest  Gift,  ei 

But  the  problem  he  was  solving  was  that  of  no  pup- 
pet of  fiction.  It  was  his  own  ;  and  at  times  he  felt  as 
if  the  struggle  were  likely  to  kill  him. 

"  I  wish  it  would,"  he  exclaimed  that  day,  as  he 
reached  his  room.  "I  wish  to  God  I  could  die. 
Better  death  than  life  like  this." 

When  his  passion  found  voice  ;  as  it  frequently  did — 
the  talking  with  himself  being  a  relief  from  the  restraint 
with  others — he  was  like  a  man  partly  demented. 
Wholly  absorbed,  he  would  walk  quickly  from  one 
end  of  the  room  to  the  other,  or  throw  himself  into  a 
chair  or  on  to  a  couch,  or  even  on  to  the  floor ;  and 
after  long,  brooding  periods  of  intense  and  painful 
thought,  the  words  would  come  pouring  out  volubly 
and  rapidly,  like  a  suddenly  liberated  stream,  and 
then  he  would  relapse  as  suddenly  again  into  si- 
lence. 

The  subject  was  always  the  same  :  himself,  his  love, 
and  his  infirmity. 

There  was  an  intense  earnestness  in  his  manner  ; 
and  his  voice,  singularly  sweet  and  melodious,  yet  at- 
tuned as  it  were,  to  the  expression  of  melancholy,  was 
full  of  pathos. 

At  first  when  he  entered  his  room,  he  cast  himself  on 
a  chair  and  gazed  listlessly  out  of  the  window.  But 
the  conflict  that  was  raging  within  him  left  no  room  for 
interest  in  the  lovely  landscape  view  which  stretched 
away  in  front  of  him ;  and  when  the  sound  of  the 
voices  of  the  others  came  in  through  the  open  window, 
he  closed  it  and  began  pacing  the  softly-carpeted  room 
with  quick,  agitated  steps. 

"Margery,  Margery,  my  love,"  he  cried  aloud,  with 


62  Ube  areatest  (3ift. 

suddenness.  "  Oh  God,  that  I  ever  was  born  to  suffer 
thus."  This  was  the  burden  of  his  thoughts. 

After  a  minute  he  threw  himself  on  his  knees  before 
a  chair  in  front  of  the  window,  and  buried  his  face  in 
his  hands.  Presently  with  the  same  impetuous  action, 
he  uncovered  his  face  again,  and  interlocking  his 
fingers  tightly,  held  his  clasped  hands  pressed  upon  his 
bowed  head,  while  he  spoke  in  a  voice  that  was  almost 
a  moan  of  prayer  and  anguish,  the  words  coming  in 
fitful  rushes,  broken  by  pauses. 

"Oh  God,  oh  God,  have  mercy  upon  me  in  my 
misery  !  "  he  cried.  "  Is  it  not  enough  that  I  must  be 
something  less  and  worse  than  all  my  kind  ;  that  I 
must  be  a  thing  of  scorn  to  raise  no  other  feeling  save 
pity  ;  a  wretched  mis-hewn  fragment  of  humanity, 
born  only  for  endurance  and  never  for  reward?  It  is 
too  hard,  too  hard.  ..."  Then  after  a  pause,  with 
less  passion  and  more  pathos  and  regret:  "Ah,  Mar- 
gery, Margery,  if  you  could  only  know  my  love,  I 
wonder  could  you  give  me  even  a  slight  return.  No, 
no,  there  is  no  hope,  there  is  no  hope.  .  .  .  Yet  this 
last  curse  might  have  been  spared  me.  To  love  with 
a  love  that  surges  through  my  whole  being  and  is 
more  to  me  than  my  life  :  a  passion  that  goes  out 
from  my  heart,  my  brain,  my  soul,  and  finds  no  return 
because  of  the  mere  ban  of  shapeless  deformity.  I  do 
not  love  with  my  body,  but  with  my  soul ;  but  my 
soul  is  unloved  because  of  my  body.  .  .  .  God  has 
placed  in  my  soul  the  image  of  Himself,  and  yet  allows 
the  grosser  earthly  part  to  thwart  the  yearnings  of  His 
inspiration  !  .  .  .  What  a  fool  I  am  to  talk  thus  wildly, 
as  if  I  were  a  thing  to  be  regarded  as  of  any  worth. 


Ube  Greatest  (Sift  63 

Why  should  men  regard  what  God  Himself  despises  ? 
...  Is  it  too  much  to  ask  for  mercy  ?  He  knows 
my  heart,  my  soul,  my  misery.  Why  will  He  not 
grant  me  oblivion  :  sever  soul  from  body  as  body 
severs  soul  from  happiness,  and  if  He  can,  put  an  end 
to  both  ?  To  live  without  Margery  were  worse  than 
death  ;  and  yet  to  die  without  her  worse  than  life.  Is 
there  no  power  can  grant  this  oblivion  ?  .  .  .  No, 
there  is  none,  and  mine  are  but  empty  words.  I  know 
it.  There  is  no  end  to  this  misery  for  me.  To  pray 
like  this  is  mere  blasphemy  ;  if  there  be  such  a  thing 
as  blasphemy.  ...  It  is  with  Providence  as  with 
men,  I  am  a  thing  of  nought." 

He  spoke  the  last  words  with  vehement  bitterness, 
and  rose  and  strode  about  the  room  as  if  in  anger.  But 
the  sorrow  soon  laid  hold  of  him  again,  the  angry  light 
died  away  out  of  his  beautiful  face,  and,  sinking  down 
in  a  chair,  he  gazed  listlessly  out  of  the  window.  At 
that  moment  Margery  was  in  the  garden  below,  and  as 
his  eyes  fell  on  her,he  flushed,  and  trembled,  and  sighed. 

"Ah,  Margery,  Margery,  my  love,"  he  cried,  "how 
fair  an  angel  art  thou  to  be  to  me  so  sore  a  plague  !  " 

Then  a  long  silence  followed,  during  which  he 
watched  the  girl  as  she  moved  about  in  the  garden 
among  the  flowers. 

Suddenly  he  started,  disturbed  by  a  light  sound  ; 
and  he  went  quickly  through  the  open  door  by  which 
his  two  rooms  communicated  to  find  the  cause.  The 
other  room  was  empty,  but,  on  trying  the  door,  he 
found  that  he  had  not  turned  the  key  in  it.  He  looked 
out  on  to  the  corridor,  but  saw  nothing.  Then  he 
went  back  to  watch  Margery. 


e4  ttbe  Greatest  (Bift 

Some  one  had  been  in  the  room,  however,  and  had 
Godfrey  looked  farther,  he  would  have  seen  the  old 
captain  walking  slowly  to  his  own  rooms  with  a  very 
white  and  anxious  look  on  his  face.  He  had  learnt 
the  boy's  secret  now  by  innocent  eavesdropping. 


CHAPTER  V. 

So  it  was  a  love  trouble  after  all,  and  Margery  was 
the  object. 

The  thought  troubled  and  perplexed  and  saddened 
the  captain,  as  he  sat  in  his  room  thinking  over  what 
he  had  overheard.  He  could  not  at  first  understand 
the  lad's  despondency.  If  he  loved  the  girl,  as  he 
said,  why  didn't  he  pluck  up  his  courage  and  dare  his 
fate  like  a  man  ? 

In  truth,  it  was  just  such  a  trouble  as  he  could  not 
understand.  He  could  not  enter  into  the  motives  of 
those  who  fought  secretly  with  sorrows  without  first 
making  sure  that  they  were  real.  He  had  always 
taken  his  beatings  fighting.  He  was  always  for  ac- 
tion. Better  to  fight  the  gale  as  long  as  possible  than 
to  slink  away  to  leeward  under  bare  poles.  Time 
enough  to  give  in  when  you  were  beaten  ;  but  make 
sure  you  were  beaten,  and  beaten  beyond  hope,  before 
you  did  give  in.  That  was  his  policy. 

Then  he  thought  of  his  own  love  days — and  breathed 
many  a  sigh  over  them  and  their  departed  happiness 
and  gloomy  ending — but  here  and  there  the  memory 
was  flecked  with  a  smile  as  he  recalled  how  he  had 
carried  everything  by  the  vigor  of  his  assault.  He  had 
never  had  time  to  shilly-shally,  to  doubt  and  wait  and 
fear  that  he  was  to  be  refused.  He  had  only  been  on 
5  65 


66  Ube  Greatest  Gift. 

shore  for  short  spells  in  those  days,  and  if  he  had  spent 
them  in  wondering  and  imagining — but  there,  whaj 
was  the  good  of  maundering'  on  about  himself. 

Then  he  grew  grave,  and  began  to  think  seriously. 

It  was  an  odd  coincidence  that,  if  his  son's  happi- 
ness were  to  be  wrecked,  the  innocent  cause  should 
be  Margery  Allingham,  just  as  her  mother  had  in- 
nocently helped  to  bring  about  his  own  life-grief. 

Then  the  thoughts  got  busy  again  with  the  old 
themes  and  the  old  trouble  ;  the  wrongful  suspicions  of 
his  wife,  the  fearful  effects,  and  all  the  time  of  horror 
and  gloom  that  had  passed. 

This  set  up  a  train  of  strange  thoughts. 

Was  Margery  heart-whole  ?  Could  it  be  that  all  that 
he  had  suffered  indirectly  through  her  mother  could  be 
really  compensated  for  in  the  happiness  which  she 
could  bring  to  his  boy  ?  The  idea  pleased  him  ;  and 
he  let  it  have  full  run.  Like  a  sailor,  he  was  some- 
thing more  of  a  fatalist  than  most  people,  though  many 
are  ready  enough  to  read  fate  and  the  decrees  of  Prov- 
idence when  the  decrees  fit  in  with  their  wishes. 

He  had  never  thought  of  Godfrey  and,.  Margery  as 
lovers  ;  but  then,  as  he  told  himself,  he  had  never 
thought  of  the  possibility  of  Godfrey  marrying  at 
all. 

Could  he  try  and  sound  Margery  ? 

At  first  the  idea  of  doing  anything  of  the  kind  dis- 
turbed him.  But  the  recollection  of  his  lad's  misery,  as 
he  had  heard  and  seen  it,  soon  drove  every  feeling  out 
of  his  mind,  except  a  desire  to  go  to  the  rescue  as  soon 
as  possible  ;  and  he  began  to  think  vaguely  of  what  he 
would  do. 


ttbe  Greatest  Gift  67 

He  wanted  first  to  do  what  Godfrey  had  evidently 
been  afraid  to  do  :  to  see  whether  there  was  really  any 
hope  for  the  boy.  If  there  was  not,  he  would  go  to 
Godfrey  and  tell  him  frankly  that  he  knew  his  secret, 
and  say  to  him,  "  Come,  Godfrey,  let  us  bear  the 
burden  like  men  ;  front  to  the  enemy,  head  erect,  eyes 
steady,  and  sorrow  out  of  sight." 

But  he  must  first  find  out  the  truth. 

Could  he  do  it  without  Margery  ?  Would  Nan  know 
anything?  or  Guy  ?  The  last  was  dismissed  as  soon 
as  thought  of.  But  Nan  might.  How  could  he  ask 
her  ?  Nay,  how  could  she  know  ?  Would  Margery 
tell  her?  No  ;  because  if  there  had  been  anything  to 
tell,  Margery,  dear  little  heart,  would  have  come  to  him. 
Would  Nan  find  out  of  her  own  account?  Who  could 
be  certain  ?  If  nothing  had  been  told,  there  was  only 
one  who  would  know — and  that  was  Margery.  If  he 
asked  any  one  but  her,  he  might  do  just  what  he  wanted 
to  avoid,  and  make  a  mistake,  and  that  would  be  fatal. 
No  ;  he  must  go  to  headquarters. 

With  him,  to  decide  was  to  act. 

That  evening  he  observed  the  young  folks  closely. 
Godfrey,  who  looked  so  pale  and  troubled  that  the  old 
man's  heart  ached,  stayed  in  the  room,  and  the  captain 
watched  him  and  Margery  when  they  were  together. 
Indeed,  he  threw  them  together ;  and  he  thought  him- 
self a  perfect  diplomatist  when  he  drew  Nan  into  a 
game  of  chess  and  sent  Guy  away  to  study,  and  so  ar- 
ranged the  chess-board  that  he  could  watch  the  others, 
while  Nan  had  her  back  turned  to  them. 

He  played  egregiously  badly  that  night,  he  never 
played  well  at  any  time — but  that  night  he  could  not 


68  Ube  Greatest  <3ift. 

see  a  move  ahead  so  that  Nan,  who  as  Guy  said  was 
a  "regular  duffer  "and  scarcely  knew  the  moves  of 
the  pieces,  won  every  game. 

So  obviously  preoccupied  was  he  that  he  nearly  de- 
feated his  own  object,  for  sharp-witted  Nan  saw  his 
condition. 

"  You're  thinking  about  something,  uncle,"  she  said 
once,  ' '  That's  the  third  time  you've  lost  the  Queen  by 
defending  a  check  from  a  bishop.  There  she  goes,  and 
now  you're  check  again.  But  what  are  you  bothered 
about?  I  say,  Margery — " 

"  No,  no,  Nan  ;  it's  all  right  there,"  he  said  hurriedly, 
moving  a  pawn  up  and  threatening  her  knight.  "  You'll 
see  in  a  minute.  Perhaps  I've  a  deep  plot,  and  have 
given  you  that  Queen  just  as  a  blind.  Look  out. 
Sailors  always  fear  a  squall  most  in  fair  weather,  you 
know.  Mind  this  castle  " — and  he  touched  a  castle 
that  could  not  by  any  possible  combination  be  brought 
into  his  attack. 

But  this  was  enough  to  set  the  girl  thinking  again 
about  the  game,  while  the  captain  resumed  his  quiet 
watch. 

Margery  and  Godfrey  had  been  sitting  together  at 
a  table  on  which  stood  a  lamp  with  a  large  fringed 
shade,  and  both  had  books.  The  cripple  had  not 
been  reading  much,  and  the  captain  had  seen  him 
several  times  lift  his  eyes  over  his  book  and  let  them 
rest  on  the  girl's  form  or  face.  Once  or  twice,  while 
doing  this,  he  had  glanced  hurriedly  and  it  seemed 
nervously  across  at  the  chess  players,  to  make  sure 
that  he  was  not  observed,  and  he  had  moved  his  seat 
just  sufficiently  to  have  the  light  of  the  lamp  on  his 


Greatest  Gift  69 

book  while  his  face  was  concealed  by  the  shadow  cast 
by  the  shade. 

After  a  time  the  two  had  begun  to  talk  in  low  tones, 
Margery  starting  apparently  with  a  question  suggested 
by  what  she  was  reading,  and  then  they  had  drawn 
more  closely  together.  The  subject  seemed  to  interest 
them,  and  the  captain  watched  the  flushing  cheek  and 
brightening  eye  of  his  son,  and  hoped  that  he  could 
detect  in  the  girl  signs  of  what  he  wished  to  find.  And 
he  determined  to  speak  to  her  that  night. 

Quick  to  watch  the  captain  and  to  study  his  moods, 
Margery  had  seen  that  something  was  amiss  with  him, 
and  when  she  heard  what  Nan  said  about  his  being  so 
preoccupied,  and  listened  to  the  sound  of  his  voice  as 
he  replied — she  could  always  read  his  voice — she  knew 
he  was  uneasy,  and  feared  he  might  be  unhappy. 

Thus,  when  the  others  went  to  bed  she  lingered  in- 
tentionally, looking  for  one  of  those  confidential  chats 
which  the  two  so  often  had  when  all  the  rest  were  in 
bed. 

As  soon  as  they  had  gone,  she  went  across  to  where 
the  captain  sat  buried  in  thought,  and  leaning  over  the 
back  of  his  armchair  she  placed  one  of  her  soft  white 
arms  round  his  neck  and  bent  down  and  kissed  him. 
He  carried  her  hand  to  his  lips  and  looked  with  a  smile 
into  her  eyes. 

"I  read  trouble  in  somebody's  eyes,"  she  said 
softly,  "and  I  have  stayed  behind  the  others  to  see 
what's  the  matter.  What  is  it,  uncle  ?  "  And  keeping 
his  hand  in  hers,  she  moved  round,  and  pulling  a  low 
chair  to  her,  sat  down  by  him. 

There  was  something  very  soothing  in  her  touch  and 


70  Ube  Greatest  0ift 

presence,  and  the  captain  felt  her  influence.  But  he 
did  not  speak.  Indeed,  he  did  not  know  how  to  begin. 
He  was  so  anxious  to  find  out  what  her  feelings  toward 
Godfrey  were,  and  whether  there  was  any  chance  for 
him,  that  he  was  afraid  lest  his  eagerness  might  betray 
his  purpose  too  soon. 

There  was  another  influence  at  work,  unconsciously. 
In  all  his  difficulties  he  was  accustomed  to  take  the 
girl  into  consultation,  and  all  his  instincts  were  now 
just  to  tell  her  the  facts  and  let  her  decide  what  should 
be  done.  The  girl  was  watching  his  face  closely  and 
saw  that  some  sort  of  struggle  was  going  on — and  she 
divined  that  the  matter  was  more  serious  than  she  had 
at  first  thought. 

"Is  it  something  I  cannot  help  you  in,  uncle  ? "  she 
asked,  at  length.  "I  can  see  you  are  troubled." 

"That's  not  why  I'm  silent,  little  lass,"  he  said, 
"but  I  don't  know  where  to  begin.  I'm  just  like  a 
great  blundering  East  Indiaman,  beating  about  with  a 
head  wind  at  the  mouth  of  a  nasty  channel,  waiting 
for  the  pilot  cutter." 

It  was  a  habit  of  his  when  he  was  agitated  to  draw 
on  his  old  sea  experiences  for  figures  of  speech. 

"  I'll  be  the  pilot,  and  my  love  will  tell  us  how  to 
steer.  Now  the  cutter's  made  fast  and  the  pilot's 
on  board."  She  closed  her  other  hand  on  his,  and 
kissed  him,  and  asked  with  a  smile  :  "Now,  captain, 
how's  her  head  ?  " 

"Ah,  little  Madge  pilot.  It's  not  so  much  how's  her 
head  as  how's  her  heart.  And  I'm  afraid  the  pilot 
don't  know  the  channel  ;  and  there  are  shoals,  and 
currents,  and  rocks  ahead,  and  the  mists  are  thick,  I 


tlbe  ereatest  6ift  ?i 

can't  even  take  the  soundings,  and  as  for  getting  into 
port,  I  don't  even  know  what  port  we  can  make  for." 

"And  must  the  pilot  remind  the  captain  of  the  sheet 
anchors  of  love,  and  faith,  and  trust  ?  "  And  this  look 
on  her  face  and  the  light  in  her  eyes  as  she  asked  this 
made  her  beautiful. 

The  old  man  let  his  eyes  rest  on  her  face  fora  while, 
and  asked,  with  a  sudden  earnestness  which  surprised 
her: 

"  Do  you  love  me,  Madge  ?  " 

"Love  you  !  "  she  echoed  ;  and  she  was  about  to 
reply  lightly  with  a  laugh,  and  perhaps  a  kiss,  when 
she  divined  that  he  had  some  earnest  motive,  and  fit- 
ted her  answer  to  his  mood.  "  You  have  \feeu  my 
father." 

"Are  you  happy  at  the  Manor  House?  Do  you 
want  to  leave  it  ?  "  This  he  asked  as  the  best  way  he 
could  think  of  to  try  and  probe  whether  she  had  any 
regard  of  Alan  Ramsay — an  idea  he  had  once  had. 

"It  is  my  home,  and  I  love  it,"  she  answered. 

There  was  a  slight  tinge  of  color  in  her  cheek,  but  her 
face  was  from  the  light  and  he  did  not  see  it.  She,  on 
her  side,  was  beginning  to  wonder  whether  Alan  could 
have  said  anything. 

"Yes,  child,"  answered  the  captain, with  a  smile,  as 
he  pressed  her  hand  gently.  "  That  is  just  the  answer 
I  would  have  you  make.  It  is  home,  our  home.  Mine, 
and  yours,  and  Nan's,  and  Guy's,  and — Godfrey's." 
There  was  a  slight  hesitation  as  he  mentioned  Godfrey, 
such  as  people  show  who  are  full  of  a  subject  and  yet 
want  to  approach  it  gently.  "We  have  been  very 
happy  all  together,  haven't  we?  Sharing  the  good 


72  Ube  Greatest  (Bfft. 

and  the  bad  fortune,  holding  together  fair  weather  ar\d 
foul,  like  good  messmates." 

"  Yes,  uncle,"  said  Margery,  when  the  captain 
stopped,  evidently  somewhat  embarrassed.  "  But 
what  is  your  trouble  now?  There  z's  something." 

"Is  there,  Madge  pilot,"  he  replied,  smiling,  but 
rather  faintly,  for  he  was  at  a  loss  how  to  get  on. 
"  Dear  little  pilot,"  and  he  kissed  her.  "If  I  were  in 
trouble,  Madge,  great  trouble,  would  you  try  and  help 
me  ? " 

"Uncle!"  cried  the  girl,  with  a  catch  of  reproach 
in  her  tone  that  he  should  even  ask  the  question  ;  and 
she  rose  quickly  and,  settling  herself  on  his  knee, 
twined  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  kissed  him  and 
nestled  her  head  on  his  breast,  by  way  of  answer. 

"Dear  little  heart,"  said  the  old  man,  who  had 
rarely  seen  her  more  moved.  "It  is  not  my  own 
trouble.  I  am  too  bulwarked  by  love  to  have  any 
troubles  of  my  own,"  he  said,  kissing  her.  "This 
trouble  is  my  boy's — Godfrey's.  But  I  seem  to  feel  it 
just  the  same."  He  sighed  deeply. 

"What  is  it,  uncle  ?  "  asked  Margery.  "Is  it  some- 
thing very  serious  ?  Poor  Godfrey." 

Innocently,  and,  indeed,  unconsciously,  the  captain 
had  appealed  to  just  that  feeling  in  the  girl's  heart 
which  was  the  dominant  thought  of  her  life — her  in- 
tense love  for  himself  and  almost  passionate  desire  to 
do  that  which  pleased  him.  There  was  no  sacrifice  that 
could  have  been  asked  of  her  on  that  account  which 
she  would  not  have  made  cheerfully.  At  that  moment, 
all  her  thoughts  were  concentrated  on  the  one  idea 
that  something  troubled  and  grieved  him.  What  the 


ttbe  Greatest  <3fft.  73 

cause  was  or  what  might  be  needed  to  remove  it, 
were  only  minor  considerations.  He  was  troubled, 
and  it  was  her  duty  to  relieve  him.  Thus,  had  his  first 
approach  been  the  result  of  the  most  carefully  prepared 
and  thought-out  tactics,  it  could  not  have  made  her 
more  eager  to  discover  what  she  could  do  to  help 
him. 

He  told  her  the  story  of  what  he  had  overheard, 
withholding  for  the  time  the  mention  of  her  own  name  ; 
and  throughout  it  all  there  were  so  many  little  touches 
which  told  her  how  deeply  the  teller  was  suffering, 
that  before  he  had  finished  she  was  consumed  with  a 
desire,  as  keenly  sympathetic  as  his  own,  to  help 
Godfrey. 

Well  as  she  knew  the  old  captain,  and  deep  as  she 
knew  his  love  for  Godfrey  to  be  and  his  yearning  for 
the  boy's  happiness,  she  had  never  seen  him  moved 
like  this. 

It  was  as  if  all  the  pain  and  disappointment  and 
grief  which  he  had  felt  for  twenty  years  on  the  crip- 
ple's account  had  been  compressed  into  the  intense 
emotion  which  this  last  incident  had  roused ;  and  the 
girl  seemed,  amid  the  telling,  to  catch  glimpses  of 
hidden  depths  of  secret  trouble  in  the  old  man's  mind 
such  as  she  had  never  guessed  at,  and  her  heart 
swelled  with  pity,  concern,  and  love,  while  she  was 
fired  with  a  yearning  to  be  able  to  help. 

But  it  was  not  on  Godfrey's  account.  Him  she 
loved,  but  it  was  only  with  the  reflected  love — because 
he  was  the  captain's  son — tempered  with  that  affection 
which,  in  certain  natures,  must  always  come  as  the 
result  of  long  and  close  association,  Th<?  instinct  that 


74  Ube  Oreatest  Gift 

•was  uppermost  in  her  mind,    however,   was  to  help 
him,  because  that  would  help  the  captain. 

"And  when  I  saw  the  poor  lad's  face,  Madge,  with 
its  awful  look  of  agony  and  despair,"  were  the  cap- 
tain's concluding  words,  spoken  in  quite  broken  tones, 
"and  heard  him  pray  for  something  beyond  and  worse 
than  death,  I  was  like  a  man  beside  himself.  I  prayed 
to  my  God  either  that  part  of  the  burden  of  his  grief 
might  be  lifted  from  his  to  my  shoulders,  or  that  at 
any  cost  I  could  be  shown  how  to  help  him.  Poor, 
heart-broken  lad  !  " 

The  sight  of  her  uncle's  anguish  made  the  girl 
wretched. 

"Courage,  uncle,  courage.  The  prayer  may  be 
heard.  The  captain  must  have  faith  in  the  pilot." 
And  she  smiled  and  kissed  him.  "There  is  very  little 
really  hopeless  trouble  in  the  world,  dear,"  she 
said. 

"Aye,  aye,  that  may  be,  little  pilot;  but  this  may 
prove  to  be  a  touch  of  it.  There  is  but  one  course." 

"  '  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes,'" 
quoted  the  girl  reverently.  "There  is  no  trouble  that 
He  cannot  soothe.  But  why  should  Godfrey  de- 
spair ? " 

He  looked  his  answer,  not  putting  it  in  words,  and 
she  understood  all  he  could  have  said  as  to  the  other's 
crippled  shape. 

"  Yes,  it  is  true,"  she  said,  answering  the  thought. 
''But  how  does  he  know  that  all  is  so  hopeless  !  A 
true  woman  who  is  worthy  of  such  a  love  as  that  would 
take  no  heed  of — of  anything  but  his  mind,  his  char- 
acter, his  truth." 


Ube  Greatest  <Mft  ts 

She  had  stumbled  over  the  sentence  in  breaking  away 
from  the  word  deformity. 

"Who  is  she?" 

She  asked  the  question  in  all  innocence. 

The  captain  looked  at  her  half  helplessly,  under- 
standing how  perfectly  unconscious  she  was  of  the 
truth,  and  feeling  that  all  the  real  difficulty  had  not  yet 
been  approached. 

"To  love  hopelessly  is  sad  for  anyone,  Madge,  "said 
the  captain  somewhat  irrelevantly,  but  not  knowing 
how  to  say  what  had  to  be  said. 

"  It  must  be  worse  than  anything  in  the  world,"  she 
answered. 

This  thought  touched  her  closely,  and  made  her 
think  for  a  moment  of  Alan,  calling  up  a  very  faint 
tinge  of  color  to  her  cheeks. 

"But,  I  repeat,  you  do  not  know  that  it  is  hopeless. 
Take  heart,  uncle," — here  she  smiled  again,  and  the 
color  deepened  a  little — "there  are  few  women  who 
do  not  like  to  know  they  are  loved.  Go  to  her,  if 
Godfrey  dare  not  go,  and  plead  for  him.  I  would  go, 
but  woman  cannot  plead  with  woman  on  such  a  sub- 
ject. Ah,  uncle,"  she  cried,  with  an  impulse  of  affec- 
tion, "did  she  but  know  you  and  love  you  as  I  do, 
you  would  not  plead  in  vain." 

She  spoke  with  infinite  love  and  tenderness  in  her 
voice,  and  nestled  to  him  closely,  and  caressed  him, 
and  she  felt  him  start  and  tremble. 

"Ah,  little  heart,"  he  said  hoarsely,  "would  you 
say  this  if  you  knew  who  it  was  ?  " 

"Aye,  I  would  say  it  even  if  it  were  myself," 
she  answered,  thinking  to  comfort  him,  and  smil- 


76  t£be  Greatest  <Mft 

ing  to  herself  at  what  she  thought  such  an  ab- 
surdity. 

"Now,  Gad  be  thanked  for  His  mercies, "burst  from 
the  old  man,  his  voice  shaking  as  he  put  both  his  arms 
round  her,  and  kissed  her  several  times,  "God  be 
thanked  for  His  mercies." 

Then  in  a  moment,  as  Margery  lay  in  his  arms, 
clasped  almost  convulsively  to  his  heart,  her  eyes  were 
opened.  The  revelation  at  first  bewildered  and  fright- 
ened her.  She  felt  little  tingling  chills  in  all  the 
tracery  of  her  veins,  and  she  thought  she  was  going  to 
faint.  But  she  made  a  violent  effort  for  self-possession, 
so  that  she  could  nerve  herself  for  what  might  yet  be 
coming.  She  knew  it  was  the  crisis  of  her  life,  and 
her  mind  was  of  that  vigorous  kind  which,  after  the 
first  shock  is  over,  is  stirred  by  a  crisis  into  activity. 

One  after  another  the  impressions  of  all  that  this 
news  might  mean  photographed  themselves  with  a 
consummate  correctness  of  dull  detail  upon  her  mind, 
the  only  live  tone  being  the  thought  that  at  last  she 
had,  what  she  had  often  wished  for,  a  chance  of  show- 
ing the  gratitude  she  felt  to  her  uncle. 

Never  once  did  she  contemplate  recalling  her  words, 
whatever  might  be  the  consequences  to  her.  She  had 
read  such  a  wealth  of  relief  and  happiness  and  content 
in  his  fervent  outburst  of  thanks  that  no  offer  which 
could  have  been  made  to  her  would  have  induced  her 
to  plunge  him  back  into  the  condition  of  despondency 
and  despair  which  she  had  witnessed. 

There  was  a  long  pause  after  the  captain's  last  words. 

"  God  bless  you,  little  light  of  my  life,"  he  said  ;  and 
the  girl  was  glad  to  note  the  altered  sound  of  his  voice. 


tbe  Greatest  $ift  77 

"Would  this  make  you  very  happy,  uncle?"  she 
asked,  and  she  had  such  difficulty  in  clearing  her  voice 
that  she  had  to  stop  in  the  middle  of  the  sentence  to 
cough. 

"I  would  give  my  life  if — if  it  would  make  you 
happy  as  well,  Madge — but  only  so,"  he  answered. 

And  at  these  words  the  girl  understood  fully  all  that 
had  yet  to  be  done.  The  captain  would  have  to  be 
deceived. 

"Why  did  you  keep  me  so  long  in  suspense,  uncle, 
not  telling  me  the  name?"  she  asked,  forcing  herself 
to  smile,  but  hiding  her  face  directly  against  his. 

"Was  it  suspense,  Madge?  "  he  asked,  in  a  whisper 
full  of  pleasure. 

She  nestled  more  closely  to  him  without  speaking. 

"I  never  thought  of  it;  never  dreamt  of  it.  What 
a  blind  old  fellow  I  must  have  been/'  he  said  in- 
nocently. Then  he  laughed.  "Just  imagine  my  never 
having  seen  even  a  scrap  of  the  right  colors.  I  declare 
if  I'd  been  asked.  I  should  have  been  fool  enough  to 
say  that  you  were  running  some  different  colors  to  the 
mast-head?  " 

"Would  you,  uncle  ?"  asked  Margery,  in  a  whisper, 
fearing  what  he  might  say  next  and  yet  fearing  to  check 
him. 

"Aye,  aye;  I  was  stupid  enough  to  wonder  whether 
it  wasn't  the  Alan  line  that  you  were  sailing,  in,  and 
that  was  just  my  trouble,  Madge.  I  was  afraid — "  his 
voice  was  quite  low  and  shaky  for  an  instant,  and  he 
paused. 

The  girl  gave  a  soft,  low  laugh.  The  pain  at  her 
heart  was  too  great  for  her  to  speak  even  a  single  word. 


W  tTbe  Greatest 

"Thank  God,  it  is  as  it  is.  Why,  it's  positively  a 
good  thing  that  I  overheard  what  I  did,  eh,  little 
Madge?  "  He  laughed  again  as  he  said  this.  "  If  I 
hadn't,  who  knows  what  would  have  happened  ?  And 
there  have  I  been  almost  eating  my  old  heart  out  for 
fear  of  coming  misery,  when  all  the  time  I  shall  be  the 
means  of  bringing  you  two  together.  I  am  an  old 
fool,  a  regular,  blind  old  bat,  ain't  I  ?  " 

Poor  Margery.     Every  word  stabbed  and  stung  her. 

She  must  be  alone  ;  otherwise  she  would  break  down. 

"A  blind  captain  has  all  the  more  want  of  a  pilot, 
indeed,  hasn't  he  ?  "  she  said,  as  lightly  as  she  could, 
lifting  her  head  now  from  his  breast.  "  Haven't  I 
been  a  good  pilot,  and  earned  my  money  !  "  She  put 
up  her  face  to  be  kissed.  "I've  steered  the  vessel 
almost  into  port,  certainly  within  sight  of  it." 

"  I  thank  God  with  all  my  heart  for  the  blessings 
you've  brought  to  me,  my  child  all  through  your  life, 
and  now  to-night  beyond  all.  God  bless  you,  my 
dearest  little  daughter." 

The  girl  winced  at  the  word,  knowing  its  new 
meaning,  but  she  did  not  let  the  captain  see  the  move- 
ment. 

"Good  night,  uncle,"  she  cried,  throwing  her  arms 
around  him,  and  kissing  him  vehemently. 

Then  she  slid  off  his  knee  and  went  to  the  door. 
Turning  round  and  finding  his  eyes  following  her, 
she  smiled  to  him  and  ran  back,  and,  kissing  him  again, 
whispered  in  his  ear  : 

"  Good  night,  father.     You're  happy  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  darling.  " 

And  so  she  left  him  blessing  her  and  praising  her  in 


Ube  areatest  Gift.  79 

his  thoughts.  Nor  did  she  leave  with  him  the  faintest 
suspicion  that  he  had  blighted  and  crushed  out  the 
youth  and  happiness  of  her  hitherto  happy  youngf 
life. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

JONAS  RUDYER  and  his  wife  were  sitting  at  breakfast 
in  the  very  pleasant  morning-room  of  their  house  in 
Carmarthen  Gardens,  Bayswater. 

Mr.  Rudyer  was  busy  with  the  inside  sheet  of  the 
Times  while  his  wife  was  skimming  the  advertisements. 
This  was  a  shorter  undertaking  than  her  husband's 
and,  consequently,  she  had  finished  first. 

Five  years  had  made  very  little  difference  in  Bea- 
trice Crawshay,  and  the  four  which  had  passed  since  she 
had  married  Jonas  Rudyer  for  the  sake  of  his  money 
had  been  a  time  of  great  personal  comfort.  She  had 
never  seriously  regretted  the  deliberate  choice  she  had 
made  when  she  threw  over  Hugh  Dallas  ;  but  she  had 
never  forgotten  that  she  had  loved  him.  On  the  con- 
trary, she  had  sedulously  treasured  the  memory  of 
that  time,  and  in  the  placid  current  of  her  easy  life,  the 
well-springs  of  her  old  emotions  rose  now  and  then  to 
the  surface,  but  never  with  sufficient  force  to  alter  the 
set  of  the  tide  of  her  life. 

Her  shallow  nature  was,  however,  often  moved  by 
fleeting  impulses,  and  she  was  stirred  sometimes  by 
rushes  of  sentiment  which  she  mistook  for  something 
much  deeper.  At  such  moments  she  believed  that  she 
was  as  much  in  Jove  with  Hugh  Dallas  as  she  had  ever 
;  and  in  \\\Q$$  gentimentel  moods  she  was  WOllt 

80 


Ube  Greatest  6fft.  81 

to  regard  herself  as  a  victim  of  Fate's  ill-usage.  But 
she  had  not  the  look  of  the  victim. 

She  was  as  pretty  and  piquante  as  ever,  did  not  look 
even  as  old  as  her  four-and-tvventy  years,  and  made 
the  most  of  her  good  looks.  She  had  an  extremely 
good  figure,  which  she  dressed  to  the  utmost  advantage. 
Her  face  had  not  any  striking  regularity  of  features  or 
style  of  beauty,  but  it  had  life  and  brightness  and  mag- 
netism in  it,  and  it  was  one  of  those  which  for  many 
men  have  even  more  attraction. 

She  was  pretty  enough,  indeed,  for  the  little  frown 
with  which  she  threw  down  the  sheet  of  the  Times  not 
to  spoil  her  looks. 

"I  declare  there's  nothing  in  it,  whatever.  Not  a 
single  soul  among  either  births,  deaths,  or  marriages, 
that  one  knows." 

Jonas  Rudyer  was  much  older  than  his  wife,  own- 
ing to  near  fifty.  He  had  been  in  business  all  his  life, 
as  a  provision  dealer — first  retail  and  afterwards  whole- 
sale— had  worked  hard,  lived  simply,  and  amassed  a 
large  fortune,  when  Beatrice  Cravvshay's  pretty  blue 
eyes  and  golden  hair  had  caught  his  heart.  The  girl's 
worldly  mother  had  simplified  matters  and  smoothed 
the  course  of  his  courtship;  and  in  the  end  he  had 
made  the  costliest  purchase  that  had  ever  come  in  his 
way — a  young  wife  with  no  quality  so  fully  developed 
as  the  capacity  for  getting  rid  of  money.  lie  was 
very  fond  of  her,  and  very  kind  to  her  ;  but  hard-work- 
ing men  who  have  lived  a  regular,  routine  existence 
for  nearly  fifty  years,  find  it  difficult  to  drop  the  chrys- 
alis scales  of  long  habit  directly  they  mate,  with  3 
rather  giddy  bu.tterfly  wife. 


82  trbe  Greatest  Gift* 

"I  hate  the  papers,"  said  Mrs.  Rudyer,  seeing  that 
her  first  criticism  on  the  Times  had  passed  unnoticed. 

"Yes,  dear,"  murmured  her  husband,  as  pleased  as 
men  usually  are  when  spoken  to  in  the  midst  of 
reading. 

"Jonas,"  said  his  wife. 

"What  is  it,  Trixie,  my  dear  ?"  returned  the  good 
man,  lowering  the  paper  and  looking  at  her  over  the 
top  of  it. 

"Is  that  a  very  interesting  case  you  are  reading?  " 
she  asked,  with  sweet  satire. 

"Well,  my  dear,  it  is  rather  a  curious  one.  You 
see — " 

"I  thought  it  must  be.  I  am  so  sorry  I  spoke  to 
interrupt  you." 

"You  didn't  interrupt  me,  child,"  he  returned. 

"Not  the  first  time,  I  know,  Jonas.  Because  you 
didn't  hear  what  I  said.  I  mean  the  second  time. 
But  do  goon  reading." 

"  Now,  Beatrice,  what's  the  good  of  saying  that  ?  " 

"Because  I  mean  it,  pet,"  answered  the  young  wife, 
with  a  very  sweet  smile.  "Do  go  on  reading,  because 
if  you  lose  the  time  you  won't  be  finished  by  lunch." 

Jonas  Rudyer  looked  at  his  wife  for  a  moment,  and 
laid  the  paper  down  ;  but  being  as  discreet  as  he  was 
good-tempered,  he  picked  it  up  again,  looked  once 
more  rather  thoughtfully  at  her,  and  plunged  again 
into  the  case  of  Jackson  v.  Roberts — the  point  of  which 
turned  on  the  question  as  to  how  far  a  wholesale  firm 
was  responsible  for  some  hams  of  a  doubtful  condition 
which  had  been  sold  to  the  plaintiff. 

He  had  read  about  three  lines,  and  was  just  picking 


Ube  Greatest  Gift.  83 

up  the  threads  of  the  case  where  he  had  dropped  them, 
when  : 

"Jonas,"  said  his  wife. 

"Yes,  my  dear."     This  with  a  sigh. 

"Would  you  like  some  more  toast?" 

"No,  thank  you,  Beatrice,"  he  answered. 

He  had  read  about  three  or  four  more  lines,  when  the 
little  lady  at  the  head  of  the  table  gave  an  ominous 
cough. 

The  husband  fidgeted  with  the  paper  and  lost  his 
place. 

"Jonas,  dear." 

"  What  is  it,  Beatrice  ?  "  This  time  with  some  irri- 
tation. 

"Oh,  never  mind,  dear.  I  can  wait  if  it's  disturb- 
ing you." 

"What  is  it  you  want,  my  dear?" 

"  If  you  could  spare  time,  I  think  I  could  eat  just  a 
wee  bit  more  bacon  ;  but  I'll  wait  till  you've  finished 
reading,  if  you  wish,  and  then  the  bacon  will  be  nice 
and  cool." 

"Nonsense,  my  dear,"  as  he  helped  her;  "I  beg 
your  pardon. "  And  he  laid  his  hand  again  on  the  paper. 

"I  don't  think  this  bacon  is  very  good,  do  you?" 
she  asked. 

"I  didn't  notice  any  difference  in  it,"  he  replied, 
getting  the  paper  again  into  position. 

"I  don't  think  it's  as  good  as  that  we  had  last  week, 
nor  the  week  before  last,  do  you,  dear? "  she  asked. 

"  My  dear  girl,  do  you  really  think  I  can  possibly 
remember  the  taste  of  the  bacon  I  ate  a  fortnight  ago. 
If  you  don't  like  this,  I  should  send  it  back." 


84  tbe  Greatest  (Sift 

"Don't  stop  reading,  dear,"  with  a  sweet  accent  on 
the  "dear."  "  I  forgot  you  were  so  much  engaged, 
or  I  wouldn't  have  asked  your  opinion." 

Mr.  Rudyer  cast  a  look,  half  reproachful,  half  irri- 
table at  his  wife,  and  then  buried  himself  again  in  the 
paper.  He  had  now  to  go  back  some  distance  before 
he  could  find  his  place. 

Mrs.  Rudyer  knew  exactly  his  difficulty,  and  the  mo- 
ment he  began  again  to  read,  she  looked  at  him  with  a 
mischievous,  but  merry  expression  on  her  face,  and, 
allowing  him  time  to  get  interested,  coughed  and  cast 
down  her  eyes  demurely. 

A  movement  of  Mr.  Rudyer's  shoulders  and  the  rustle 
of  the  Times  showed  that  the  shot  had  told. 

"Jonas,"  said  the  soft,  clear  voice  of  the  lady. 

"  Beatrice,  whatever  is  it  now,  my  dear  ?  " 

"Would  you  like  some  more  coffee,  pet?"  This 
was  asked  very  demurely. 

"No,  thank  you,  my  attentive  little  wife.  No  coffee, 
no  tea,  no  toast,  no  bread,  nothing,  thank  you.  Can 
I  give  you  anything  ?  " 

As  Mr.  Rudyer  said  this,  he  put  down  the  paper  with 
the  air  of  a  man  with  a  grievance,  and  an  inclina- 
tion to  pile  everything  in  front  of  his  wife,  which 
that  dear,  aggravating  little  woman  could  possibly 
want. 

"Not  just  now,  Jonas  dear,  thank  you,"  said  she, 
with  assumed  unconsciousness. 

Mr.  Rudyer  picked  up  the  Times  again  and  vented 
some  of  his  humor  on  that  journal,  by  folding  it  up  in 
a  rather  vicious  manner  and  then  knocking  it  flat  so  as 
to  get  the  report  of  Jackson  v.  Roberts  in  position  easy 


tlbe  (Greatest  <Mft.  85 

to  read.  Then  he  tried  once  more  to  get  through  the 
case. 

But  it  was  not  in  his  nature  to  feel  irritable  with  his 
young  wife  for  long  ;  and  now  instead  of  reading  the 
report,  he  began  to  ask  himself  whether  that  last  retort 
of  his  had  not  been  somewhat  harsh  and  cross.  The 
thought  disturbed  him. 

Had  he  looked  at  his  wife,  he  would  have  seen  that 
there  was  no  regret  needed  for  his  speech  ;  for  she  was 
enjoying  the  scene  immensely.  Her  next  attack  upon 
the  Times  was  of  a  different  kind,  and  showed  how 
thoroughly  she  understood  her  husband. 

"  Heigh-ho  !  "     It  was  positively  a  prodigious  sigh. 

It  was,  indeed,  a  quite  too  forcible  attack,  as  the 
citadel  capitulated  sooner  than  she  expected,  and  the 
enemy,  looking  across  at  her  directly,  caught  the  smile 
on  her  lips  before  she  could  banish  it. 

Jonas  Rudyer  threw  down  the  paper,  burst  into  a 
laugh,  and,  jumping  up  from  his  chair,  went  to  her 
side. 

"You  aggravating,  persistent,  little  tease,"  he  said. 
"You're  only  doing  this  just  to.  worry  me.  Now, 
away  with  the  paper,  and  tell  me  what  it  is  you  want. 
I  can  see  there's  something  or  other  in  the  wind." 
And  he  kissed  her. 

"Have  you  finished  the  case,  dear?"  she  asked, 
looking  up  into  his  plain,  round  face  with  a  mischiev- 
ous smile. 

"Never  mind  the  case,  birdie;  let's  hear  your 
bother." 

"No,  you  stupid  old  thing,"  she  replied,  kissing  him. 
"I  was  only  teasing  you  ;  and  if  you're  a  good  boy, 


86  Ube  Greatest  Gift* 

you  may  finish  the  case  now,  and  then  we'll  talk.  It 
is  rather  dull  when  there  are  only  two  of  us  in  the 
room,  and  one  has  his  head  hidden  behind  a  great 
paper,"  she  said,  with  a  pretty  pout. 

"Yes,  my  birdie,  I  know.  I  ought  to  have  thought. 
Look  here,  I  tell  you  what.  I  won't  have  the  paper 
brought  to  the  place  until  after  breakfast.  And  now 
look  here,  what  is  it  ?  I'm  not  going  to  read  any 
more." 

Mrs.  Rudyer,  feeling  that  she  had  reduced  her 
husband  to  a  proper  condition  of  compliance,  began  to 
unmask  her  batteries. 

"There's  nothing  particular,  doady,"  said  the  diplo- 
matic little  body.  "  I  only  wanted  you  to  talk  to  me 
a  bit." 

"And  so  I  will,  my  girl.  Now  about  that  bacon 
you  spoke  of  just  now.  So — " 

"  You  silly  old  doady,"  she  interrupted,  taking  his 
hand,  and  laughing  as  she  carried  it  to  her  lips.  "  I 
only  said  that  to  make  you  talk.  By  the  way,  Dr. 
Williams  called  yesterday  afternoon  when  you  were 
in  that  horrid  city." 

"Ah,  he's  an  attentive  sort  of  a  chap,"  replied  the 
husband,  "Got  his  head  on  the  right  way,  too  ;  the 
right  way  for  watching  the  growth  of  his  own  interests, 
I  mean.  He'd  have  made  a  rare  salesman  with  his 
gift  of  the  gab.  What  did  he  want  ?  " 

"  He  said  that  whenhe  met  us  last  week,  he  noticed 
that  I  was  rather  pale  ;  so  he  called  quite  in  a  friendly 
way  to  see  if  I  was  better." 

"  Ha,  ha,"  laughed  Jonas,  his  round  face  crinkling 
up  into  a  hundred  furrows,  each  one  sown  with  smiles. 


Ube  Greatest  6ift.  s? 

"That's  a  good  one.  I  like  those  professional 
fellows.  They  can't  canvass  for  orders,  can  they? 
Oh,  no,  not  at  all."  And  he  winked  and  rubbed  his 
hands.  "They  can  only  see  you  looking  pale,  and 
then  call  quite  in  a  friendly  way,  just  to  see  if  you're 
better.  They're  deep  'uns,  they  are." 

"  Well,  Jonas,  I  thought  it  was  very  kind  of  him. 
And  I  should  have  thought  you  would  like  people  to 
take  notice  of  your  little  wife." 

Here  was  clearly  a  fresh  necessity  for  a  caress. 

"Of  course  I  am.  birdie;  you  know  that  well 
enough.  But  don't  you  think  my  eyes  would  be  quick 
to  see  if  anything  was  the  matter  with  you  ?  But  I'm 
glad  he  called." 

"He  didn't  think  there  was  anything  much  wrong 
with  me,  doady. " 

"  Don't  you  feel  well,  really,  my  dearest  child?" 
And  his  tone  showed  he  was  in  earnest. 

"Well,  I  don't  feel  ill,*you  know  ;  not  positively  ill. 
And  so  I  told  Dr.  Williams.  But  I  don't  feel  as  I 
should  like  to  feel." 

"And  what  did  Williams  say?" 

"Couldn't  you  manage  to  get  away  the  week  after 
next,  if  you  were  to  try  very  hard  ?  "  she  asked,  as  she 
drew  a  chair  for  him  to  sit  by  her  side,  and  then  laid 
her  arms  round  his  neck,  and  put  her  pretty  face  so 
close  to  his  that  her  cheek  touched  his.  Then  she 
went  on,  speaking  in  a  coaxing,  caressing  voice,  like 
a  spoilt  and  petted  child.  She  was  coming  to  the  point. 

"  Dr.  Williams  says  that  your  little  girl  is  paler  than 
she  ought  to  be,  and  that  the  nasty  hot  summer  air 
will  take  all  her  roses  away  ;  and  you  won't  like 


88  Ube  Greatest  6fft. 

that,  dearie,  will  you  ?  And  he  says  that  your  little 
girl  ought  to  be  taken  by  her  hubby  to  some  place 
where  there  is  nice  fresh  air  which  will  blow  the  roses 
back  again.  And  I  hate  this  nasty,  fusty,  musty, 
dusty,  dirty,  big  London,  and  I  want  to  go  away  to 
where  the  fields  are  green  and  the  flowers  are  sweet. 
And — don't  you  interrupt  me,  you  rude  old  doady," 
she  said,  breaking  off  to  stop  a  protest  with  a  kiss. 
"  How  dare  you,  sir  !  And  then  as  I  was  going  to  say, 
before  my  rude  hubby  stopped  me,  I  know  a  nice  place 
where  we  should  both  be  welcome,  and  where  we  can 
go  the  week  after  next.  I  read  you  the  invitation,  you 
know  ;  and  then  we  could  have  nice  long  walks  to- 
gether in  the  fields,  and  pick  the  flowers,  and  get  new- 
laid  eggs  and  fresh  milk,  and  you  can  carry  them — I 
mean  the  flowers — and  have  them  for  breakfast — I 
mean  the  eggs  and  milk  ;  and  you'll  know  the  dear 
old  captain — oh,  doady,  he  is  such  a  dear,  dear  old 
man — and  you'd  find  him  the  best  of  friends  ;  and  then 
I  should  be  with  Margery,  whom  I've  loved  all  my 
life  at  school ;  and  she's  the  most  wonderful  girl  in  the 
world.  And  then  there's  the  dear  old  captain's  queer 
son — poor  Godfrey — a  crippled  dwarf,  poor  fellow — 
but  such  a  gentleman,  doady,  though  rather  odd  ;  and 
there's  Nan  and  Guy.  And  oh,  wouldn't  it  all  be 
lovely  ?  And  now  you're  not  to  speak,  unless  you  say 
yes." 

And  Mrs.  Rudyer,  who  had  gabbled  out  this  rather 
incoherent  speech  at  a  great  rate,  paused  for  want  of 
breath,  and  laid  her  head  laughingly  on  her  husband's 
shoulder. 

"  So  this  is  it,  eh,  Trixie,  you  little  puss  ? "    he  said, 


Ube  Greatest  (Bift  8$ 

stroking  her  golden  hair.  "  How  on  earth  I  am  to  say 
yes,  I  can't  for  the  life  of  me  see.  And  yet  I  don't 
want  to  say  no.  But  I  told  you  that  this  matter  of  the 
company  is  very  important,  especially  just  now." 

This  referred  to  certain  changes  he  was  making  in 
his  business  arrangements,  which  were  in  a  critical 
state,  and  called  for  his  constant  personal  attendance. 
He  tried,  therefore,  to  make  this  clear  to  his  wife,  who 
did  not,  however,  wish  to  understand  it. 

"Do  go,  doady,"  she  urged  persuasively. 

"I  can't  see  my  way,  dear.  I  want  to  get  things 
squared  up  now  ;  and  of  course  I  must  see  that  they 
are  all  right  and  tight,  you  know." 

"When  could  you  go  ?  " 

"  Not  for  over  a  month,  at  the  earliest,  little  one. 
When  do  you  want  to  go? " 

"In  a  fortnight,"  answered  the  wife,  raising  her  eye- 
brows and  pouting  her  lip  to  express  her  pretty  sorrow. 

"  Impossible, '' said  Mr.   Rudyer. 

"Can't  you  manage  it  anyhow,  doady?  " 

"No,  my  girl.  I  must  be  in  the  city  then,  and  for 
the  week  following.  That's  certain.  But  if  we  could 
run  down  a  day  or  two  earlier,  I  could  leave  you  there, 
and  then  come  up  for  the  business." 

"  But  we  haven't  been  asked  till  the  Monday,  Jonas. 
Bother  the  old  city  !  " 

"Well,  could  we  manage  for  you  to  go  down,  and 
then  I'll  follow  you  as  soon  as  I  can  ?  I  shall  soon  be 
after  you,  you  bet !  " 

"  I'd  rather  you  were  with  me  when  we  went  down, 
doady." 

And  the  husband  kissed  her  for  the  words. 


90  Ube  (Greatest  0ift 

"Very  well,  it  shall  be  as  you  wish,  whatever  the 
cost.  I  must  run  up  as  soon  as  I  get  there,  if  neces- 
sary." 

"You  dear  old  thing,"  laughed  the  young  wife, 
pleased  at  having  gained  her  way,  and,  running  to  pick 
up  the  paper  which  had  been  thrown  aside,  she  gave  it 
to  him  with  a  laugh.  "There's  your  horrid  Times. 
I'll  write  to  Margery  to-day. " 

"I  must  be  off  to  the  city  now,  girlie,"  he  said. 
"  I'll  read  it  as  I  drive  in." 

He  rang  and  ordered  his  carriage  at  once  ;  and  then 
the  little  woman  bustled  about  him,  hindering  him  in 
getting  ready,  with  her  overzeal  to  help  him.  But  the 
little  attentions  pleased,  even  while  they  somewhat 
fidgeted  him  ;  and  his  face  wore  a  very  pleasant  smile 
as  he  ran  down  the  steps.  As  he  drove,  away  in  the 
brougham  he  waved  his  hand  to  her  as  she  stood  at  the 
window,  full  of  a  sense  of  happiness. 

As  soon  as  the  young  wife  had  watched  him  drive 
away,  she  went  to  her  own  pretty  boudoir  and  sat  down 
before  her  desk,  and  took  a  sheet  of  paper  to  write  to 
Margery  Allingham. 

But  she  got  no  farther  than  the  first  line,  "My 
dearest  Margery,"  when  her  pen  stopped,  and  one  of 
her  strange  flushes  of  emotion  came  over  her. 

She  sat  very  still  and  quiet,  thinking  herself  into  a 
condition  of  sentimental  sadness.  After  a  time  she 
took  out  the  letter  of  invitation  which  Margery  had 
sent  to  her — not  by  any  means  the  first  she  had 
received,  but  the  first  she  had  ever  thought  about 
accepting — and  reading  it,  stopped  at  one  short  sen- 
tence amid  a  good  deal  of  girl's  news. 


tlfoe  Greatest  0ift.  91 

"We  have  had  a  visit  from  an  old  friend  of  yours, 
Bee — a  Mr.  Dallas,  who  is  editing  a  paper  at  Middling- 
ham,  about  thirty  or  forty  miles  from  here." 

She  had  not  read  that  to  her  husband  when  reading 
the  letter  to  him  ;  but  now  it  engrossed  her  thoughts. 

"I  wonder — "  But  the  spoken  thought  got  no  fur- 
ther. 

And  when,  after  a  long  time,  she  folded  the  letter  up 
and  put  it  away,  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

MARGERY'S  trials  were  soon  to  begin. 

The  morning  following  her  conversation  with  the 
captain,  when  she  awoke,  she  found  Nan  had  crept 
into  the  bed,  and  held  her  in  her  arms. 

"  Is  anything  the  matter,  sis-sis?"  whispered  Nan 
lovingly.  "  But  there,  I  know  there  is.  It  was  in  the 
air  last  night ;  I  could  tell  something  was  going  to 
happen.  What  is  it?  You  stopped  up  a  long  time 
plotting  with  uncle.  I  know  you  did,  because  I  waited 
to  say  good-night,  and  I  wanted  to  ask  you  some- 
thing. And  when  you  came  up-stairs  I  read  it  in  your 
face.  You  didn't  see  me,  though  I  saw  you  go  into 
your  room  ;  and  I  saw  that  something  was  the  mat- 
ter." 

"  No,  dear,  there  is  nothing — nothing  particular," 
answered  Margery,  trying  to  smile. 

Nan  raised  herself  on  her  arm,  and  looked  down  into 
her  sister's  face,  the  unbraided  masses  of  her  dark  hair 
hanging  down  over  her  shoulders  and  bosom. 

"  Sis-sis,"  this  was  her  pet  name  for  Margery,  "that 
is  not  true.  Something  is  the  matter.  Listen.  I 
waited  a  time  after  you  came  up-stairs,  and  then  I  came 
and  tapped  gently  at  the  door  ;  but  you  took  no  notice. 
I  peeped  in,  then,  and  you  were  on  your  knees,  and  I 
vent  away.  I  waited  again,  and  came  and  found  you 
92 


ZTbe  Greatest  Gift.  93 

still  on  your  knees.  I  waited  a  much  longer  time,  and 
you  were  still  the  same.  I  knew  then  that  something 
serious  had  happened.  I  said  to  myself,  'Something 
must  have  happened  ;  Margery  doesn't  want  to  pray 
such  an  unconscionable  time  as  that.'  And  when  I 
came  back  the  next  time  I  found  you  huddled  up  on 
the  bed  with  all  your  clothes  on,  and  you  were  chilled 
and  looked  so  miserable.  I  stole  across  and  looked  at 
your  face,  and  you  were  sleeping,  but  not  resting,  and 
you'd  been  crying.  At  first  I  thought  I  would  wake 
you  and  make  you  let  me  sleep  with  you  ;  but  then  I 
seemed  to  guess  that  there  was  more  wrong  than  I 
could  think  of,  so  I  covered  you  up  and  went  to  bed. 
So  now  will  you  tell  me  what  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"  No,  Nan,  there  is  nothing — nothing  that  I  can  tell 
you.  I  was  a  little  upset ;  but  then  one  can  be  upset 
by  good  news  as  well  as  bad.  And  happiness  is  just 
as  disturbing  as — as  the  reverse." 

"I  see,"  answered  Nan  dryly.  "So  you  were  suf- 
fering last  night  from  excess  of  delight.  Never  mind, 
little  mother," — this  was  another  of  Margery's  pet 
names  with  her  brother  and  sister — "never  mind; 
don't  tell  me  now.  It  only  hurts  you  to  think  how 
happy  you  are.  I  have  seen  you  wince  more  than 
once  at  the  mere  thought  of  it.  Don't  trouble  to  tell 
me  now  if  it  hurts  you.  I  shall  know  soon,  I'm  per- 
fectly sure.  I'm  glad  you  are  so  happy,  sis-sis  ;  but  I 
wish  it  didn't  show  itself  in  such  a  curious  disguise," 
and  with  that  she  put  her  arms  round  Margery  and 
caressed  her,  making  her  feel  how  deep  and  true  and 
staunch  was  the  sympathy  felt,  though  offered  in  this 
light-hearted  way. 


94  Ube  Greatest  Gift. 

In  one  sense  the  episode  was  useful.  It  showed 
Margery  the  need  for  constant  self-watchfulness. 
Like  the  rest  in  the  house,  she  knew  that  Nan  had 
very  sharp  eyes  and  quick  instincts,  and  feared  that  the 
task  of  keeping  the  real  truth  from  her  would  be  the 
hardest  of  any. 

By  the  time  they  all  met  at  breakfast,  Margery  had 
obtained  self-mastery.  She  was  quiet  and  subdued, 
and  felt  as  if  there  were  an  air  of  unreality  about  every- 
thing. But  the  signs  of  the  captain's  evident  happiness 
seemed  to  more  than  repay  her  ;  although  the  warmth 
of  his  greeting,  with  the  new  meaning  she  read  in  it, 
disquieted  her  a  little,  while  the  meeting  with  God- 
frey was  full  of  embarrassment. 

All  the  time,  however,  she  was  conscious  that  Nan's 
keen  eyes,  full  of  loving  vigilance,  were  upon  her, 
noting  everything. 

Godfrey  himself  looked  very  haggard  and  wretched. 
His  face  was  drawn  and  pinched,  while  his  eyes 
loomed  out  unnaturally  large  from  the  dark  circles 
which  surrounded  them. 

Conversation  flagged  until  Guy  began  to  tell  of  the 
results  of  his  morning's  fishing — hehadbeen  too  hungry 
at  first  to  find  time  to  talk — and  then  he  rattled  away 
in  his  slangy  school-boy  style,  taking  no  heed  that 
none  of  the  others,  except  Nan,  were  listening. 

"You  ought  to  have  been  there,  Nan,"  he  said; 
"but  you're  such  a  blessed  lazybones.  Old  Mat" — 
this  was  the  fisherman  who  looked  after  the  small  yacht 
and  the  rowing  boats  which  belonged  to  the  Manor 
House — "  was  in  rattling  form.  He  fairly  reeled  off 
some  of  those  old  yarns  of  his,  telling  whopper  after 


tCbe  Greatest  Gift  95 

whopper  till  the  Flirt  had  a  regular  list  to  starboard. 
I  never  did  hear  a  chap  tell  such  crackers.  He's  a  fair 
caution.  There's  only  one  thing  riles  me  with  old  Mat ; 
he  never  will  give  in  that  anyone  ever  catches  as  big 
fish  as  he  does.  This  morning  I  hauled  up  a  regular 
one-er — a  great  walloping  cod — and  I  said,  'There  you 
are,  Mat ;  that  about  takes  the  cake,  I  guess. '  He  picked 
it  up  and  turned  it  over  and  over  once  or  twice,  with 
that  beastly  sniggering  look  that  he  puts  on,  you  know, 
and  said  slowly,  'Yes,  Mister  Guy,  that's  a  nice  little 
fish;  fact,  it's  a  nice  big  fish  for  a  boy  to  catch,  beggin' 
your  pardon  ;  but  it  ain't  azactly  the  size  as  sends  a 
man  into  any  sort  of  flummux.  It's  a  good  un  for 
you ;  but,  Lor' bless  yer,  I  'member  the  once — 'and 
then  off  he  went  to  tell  such  a  thumping  yarn  about 
a  kind  of  whale,  that  he  once  caught.  You  know  his 
'  I  'member,  the  once/  don't  you  ?  "  and  the  young  fel- 
low laughed. 

"He's  a  good  fisherman,"  said  Godfrey  not  pleas- 
antly. 

"That's  more  than  you  are  then,  Godfrey,"  retorted 
Guy.  "I  'member  the  once,  as  old  Mat  says,  when 
you  went  out  fishing  in  the  Flirt,  and  all  you  did  was 
to  get  jolly  ill,"  and  Guy  laughed  at  the  recollection. 

"I  fancy  if  we  all  were  to  ''member  the  once,'  we 
could  turn  to  a  recollection  of  that  kind,"  said  the 
captain.  "When  I  first  went  to  sea,  I  was  ill  for 
days.  Godfrey  gets  that  from  me." 

Guy  never  attempted  to  argue  with  the  captain, 
and  never  chaffed  Godfrey  when  the  captain  came  to 
the  rescue.  So  he  was  silent. 

"I  could  tell  a  tale  about  Guy  on  that,  if  I  liked," 


96  Ube  Greatest  <Mft 

laughed  Nan.  "Poor  Guy.  It  was  a  dreadful 
time." 

Guy  shook  his  head  threateningly  at  Nan,  and  whis- 
pered to  her  to  "shut  up." 

"  And  I  should  like  to  know  how  often  'our  only 
fisher-boy  '  has  come  home  with  no  fish,  eh,  Guy  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  that's  all  jolly  well  ;  but  a  fellow  can't 
always  be  in  luck.  And  if  it  comes  to  tale-telling,  I 
could  spin  a  yarn  about  Nan  and  Donald  Ramsay  on  a 
certain  expedition." 

"  Be  quiet,  you  ridiculous  boy,"  cried  Nan,  her 
cheeks  reddening,  and  rising  from  the  table,  while 
Guy  burst  out  laughing. 

Godfrey  rose  at  the  same  time  and  left  the  room, 
and  the  captain,  giving  a  meaning  glance  at  Margery, 
went  after  him. 

Margery  sat  still  a  few  minutes  thinking.  Then  she 
went  away  to  give  some  directions  about  the  house, 
and  came  back  and  sat  down  to  do  some  needlework. 

"Marge,  come  fora  sail?"  said  Guy,  breaking  in 
noisily.  "You  look  a  bit  peeky,  and  it'll  do  you 
good.  There's  a  ripping  breeze — a  regular  soldier's 
wind.  We  could  have  a  splendid  sail.  I  want  Nan  to 
come,  but  she  says  she  won't.  Even  old  Crips  might 
be  amiable  on  such  a  day  !  It's  just  spiffing." 

"Guy,  I  wish  you  wouldn't  speak  of  Godfrey  in  that 
way,"  said  Margery.  "If  he  heard  you,  it  would 
hurt  him.  You  know  how  sensitive  he  is  about  any 
allusion  of  the  sort.  It's  not  kind,  nor  like  you,  to 
make  a  jest  of  him  in  such  a  way." 

"  Crips  "  was  how  Guy  and  Nan  often  spoke  to  each 
other  of  Godfrey. 


Greatest  (Bift.  97 

The  boy  stopped  short  and  looked  at  her,  and  then 
gave  his  falsetto  cough  to  vent  his  sarcasm  and  sur- 
prise. 

"All  right,  old  sobersides;  I  know  you're  right. 
But  the  chap  can't  help  being  a  cripple  ;  but  if  he 
wasn't  so  jolly  touchy  and  so  jolly  thin-skinned  about 
it,  it  would  be  a  deal  better.  I  don't  want  to  hurt  the 
poor  chappy's  feelings.  But  what  are  you  doing  up 
there  on  such  jolly  tall  stilts?  I  know  'how  sensitive 
he  is  to  any  allusion,'  and  all  that.  But,  look  here 
Maggot,  you're  not  going  to  turn  lecturer.  Here's  the 
whole  blessed  shanty  turned  topsy-turvy.  Not  five 
minutes  ago  Nan  was  on  the  same  tack.  '  Don't  ir- 
ritate Godfrey,'  and  a  lot  more.  I  vote  we  label  him, 
'This  side  up.  With  care.  Not  to  be  upset.'  It's  all 
just  jolly  rot." 

"Did  Nan  say  anything?"  asked  Margery,  wonder- 
ing what  this  might  mean. 

"Yes,  didn't  I  tell  you  she  did,"  answered  Guy  im- 
patiently. "  But  are  you  coming  for  a  sail  ? " 

She  declined,  and  he  went  away  ;  and  then  Margery 
began  to  wonder  whether  Nan  could  have  guessed 
anything. 

Presently,  she  went  out  into  the  garden,  and  strolled 
to  her  favorite  spot,  the  rosery.  She  lingered  there, 
feeling  very  low-spirited,  as  she  moved  about  among 
the  rose  trees  picking  off  the  dead  leaves  and  withered 
blooms. 

She  was  very  nervous,  waiting  for  the  ordeal  .that 
she  knew  she  would  have  to  pass  through  with  God- 
frey. She  was  fearful  of  the  interview,  and  yet  longed 
to  get  it  over ;  feeling  all  the  while  afraid  of  being- 
7 


98  Ube  Greatest  (Wft. 

seen  by  any  of  the  others  until  everything  should  be 
settled. 

This  nervousness  was  not  the  result  of  any  irresolu- 
tion. She  had  made  her  determination  and  chosen  her 
path.  She  was  clear  in  her  own  mind  that  she  was 
doing  the  right  thing  in  seeking  to  secure  the  captain's 
happiness.  So  firm  was  her  resolve,  indeed,  that  when 
her  thoughts  wanted  to  play  truant  and  recall  the  many 
happy  scenes  she  had  had  with  Alan. Ramsay  in  that 
very  spot — especially  the  last — she  put  them  all  away 
from  her  by  a  great  effort  of  will.  She  meant  to  be 
even  thought-loyal  to  the  old  man's  wish. 

It  was  of  him  that  she  thought  always  ;  and  it  was 
her  sense  of  duty  to  him  that  buoyed  her  up  and  kept 
her  resolution  firm.  She  longed,  however,  for  every- 
thing to  be  finally  settled,  and  for  every  one  to  know 
about  it.  When  once  everybody  knew  that  it  was  de- 
cided, all  the  reasons  that  others  might  use  to  dissuade 
her  would  have  lost  their  force.  And  by  "others," 
she  meant  Nan. 

She  looked  out  eagerly,  therefore,  for  Godfrey's  com- 
ing, and  watched  the  house  for  signs  of  him. 

She  saw  him  at  last.  He  came  round  the  corner  of 
the  house  on  to  the  terrace,  and  she  noticed  that  his 
step  was  quicker  and  more  springy  than  usual.  He 
glanced  through  the  open  window  into  the  morning- 
room,  and,  finding  no  one  there,  looked  about  in  all 
directions. 

She  showed  herself  then,  by  crossing  a  path  in  full 
view  of  the  terrace  ;  and  glancing  back  through  the 
shrubbery  saw  him  coming  towards  her,  at  first  quickly 
but  afterwards  with  slackening  steps.  She  had  full 


Greatest  <3fft.  99 

time  to  observe  the  expression  of  his  face,  herself  being 
unseen,  and  she  noted  that  he  was  flushed  and  ex- 
cited. 

She  knew  the  reason  well  enough,  and  her  heart  sank. 

When  he  reached  her  his  color  had  faded  till  his 
cheeks  were  as  pale  as  her  own,  and  his  nostrils  were 
dilated  with  his  labored  breathing  as  though  he  had 
been  greatly  exerted. 

"  I  was  looking  for  you,  Margery,"  he  said,  and  the 
words  came  with  an  effort,  while  he  looked  first  at  and 
then  away  from  her  in  evident  agitation. 

The  girl  was  to  the  full  as  embarrassed  as  he,  but 
better  able  to  conceal  it,  and  she  smiled  as  she  an- 
swered : 

"  Yes.  Do  you  want  a  rose  ?  I  thought  you  would 
come  out  to  me,  so  I  picked  you  the  best  in  all  my 
garden.  Let  me  put  it  in  your  coat." 

She  could  feel  him  trembling  as  she  stood  close  to 
him  while  she  put  the  flower  into  the  buttonhole  of  his 
coat  and  fastened  it,  her  own  fingers  trembling  the 
while. 

Then  a  somewhat  long  pause  followed,  the  girl  mov- 
ing nervously  about  the  rose  trees  and  Godfrey  stand- 
ing silent  and  perplexed  close  to  her. 

Suddenly,  when  she  came  so  near  to  him  that  the 
sleeve  of  her  dress  touched  him,  he  turned  quickly  and 
caught  her  hand  and  held  it. 

"Is  it  true,  Margery?  Can  it  be  true?"  The  pas- 
sion that  was  in  him  thrilled  in  the  low  clear  tone  in 
which  he  spoke. 

"  Is  what  true,  dear  ?  "  she  asked,  leaving  her  hand 
in  his. 


ioo  Ube  Greatest  Ottt. 

"What  my  father  tells  me, "he  said.  "That  you 
can— that  I  may  tell  you  how  I  love  you,  Margery  ?  " 

"Yes,  Godfrey,  it  is  all  true,  my  dear,"  she  answered 
softly. 

"And  that  you  can  love  me  ;  and  that  you  will  be 
no  more  only  sister  to  me,  but  promised  wife  ?  Is  it 
really  true  ?  " 

Margery  turned  white  and  trembled,  but  she  kept 
her  voice  quite  steady. 

"Yes,  dear,  promised  wife,"  she  whispered,  and 
then  bent  down  and  kissed  his  forehead. 

"And  only  yesterday  I  felt  I  could  have  killed  my- 
self in  despair.  You  have  saved'  my  life,  Margery  ; 
and  more  than  that — you  have  saved  my  soul.  I 
could  have  known  no  God  had  your  love  been  denied 
me,"  and  then  he  poured  out  in  a  torrent  of  words, 
sometimes  almost  incoherent  in  their  rushing  volume, 
all  the  story  of  his  love  for  her. 

But  the  girl  only  half  heard  what  he  said,  for  all  the 
time  there  was  running  through  her  mind  a  curious 
thought  that  she  had  been  foolish  in  dreading  the 
ordeal,  and  that  nothing  could  have  been  easier  than 
this  promising  away  of  her  long-cherished  hopes  of 
happiness. 

Once  she  did  not  think  this,  however,  when  Godfrey, 
carried  away  by  the  fervor  of  his  own  language  and 
the  strength  of  his  feelings,  made  her  bend  down  to 
him  while  he  pressed  long  passionate  kisses  on  her 
lips. 

Then  she  shuddered. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"  I  SAY,  Nan,  this  is  all  jolly  queer  ;  what  does  it 
mean  ? " 

"  What  does  what  mean  ?  "  returned  Nan. 

The  two  were  sitting  together  in  a  small  room  be- 
yond the  library,  which  was  called  by  all  of  them  the 
sanctum. 

"Oh,  stash  that.  You  know  what  I  mean  well 
enough.  About  our  Marge  and  Crips." 

"Guy,  you  must  learn  to  be  more  respectful  in  your 
language,  or  I  shall  not  consent  to  listen  to  you,"  said 
the  girl,  assuming  an  air  of  rebuke. 

"  Look  here,  don't  fool.     What  does  it  mean  ?  " 

"  Of  course  you  boys  can't  understand  these — Guy, 
don't,  oh,  you  great  clumsy  thing,"  she  cried,  as  her 
brother  seized  her  hand,  and  began  to  press  his  knuckles 
into  the  back  of  it. 

"Are  you  going  to  drop  fooling — or  shall  I  have  to 
find  the  funny  bone?"  and  he  moved  his  hand  up  to 
her  elbow  and  pretended  to  threaten  her. 

"  Go  and  sit  down,  then,"  said  Nan.  "  No,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  table.  That's  right,  now,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"What's  all  this  business  about  Crips  and  Marge 
being  engaged  ?  " 

"  You  see,  my  dear  boy," — this  with  a  matronly  air 
• — "before  people  marry  they  are  generally  what  is 

101 


102  Ufce  Greatest  Gift. 

called  engaged.  That  is  to  say — now  sit  still,  or  I 
won't  say  another  word.  Well,  they  are  engaged, 
that's  all ;  and  some  day  they'll  be  married." 

"Well,  I  know  all  that,  fooley,  don't  I  ?  But  what 
does  it  mean  ?  What's  the  game  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  move  on  the  chessboard  of  life,  which  a  boy 
of  your  years  cannot — now  don't  come  near  me ; " 
and  she  jumped  up  and  ran  away  from  him,  keeping 
the  table  between  them. 

"  I'll  pay  you  for  this,  young  woman,  see  if  I  don't, 
with  your  chessboards  of  life.  Why  can't  you  give  a 
fellow  a  plain  answer?  What  does  Marge  want  to 
marry  a  chap  like  that  Crips  for?  Stow  your  larks, 
Nan.  Do  you  suppose  they're  in  earnest  ?  " 

"Earnest  ;  of  course  they  are.  You  don't  understand 
the  workings  of  the  heart.  You  will  some  day,  though  ; 
and  I  don't  envy  the  girl  that  sets  your  heart  working, 
unless  she's  as  strong  as  a  washerwoman." 

"All  right,"  answered  Guy,  with  a  loud  guffaw. 
"  Don't  you  talk.  Donald  knows  all  about  yours,  don't 
you  know.  I  can  twig  that." 

"  Let  me  see,  what  were  you  asking?  "  with  an  air 
of  indifference. 

"Well,  seriously.  Do  you  mean  that  Marge  loves 
Crips  enough  to  marry  him  ?  By  gum,  she's  a  rum 
'un  if  she  does.  But  you  girls  are  an  awfully  funny 
lot.  One  never  knows  what  you're  after.  But  I'm 
jiggered  if  I  should  have  ever  thought  Marge  would 
have  palled  on  with  Godfrey.  Is  it  really  settled, 
Nan  ?  " 

"  Of  course  it  is.  Didn't  you  hear  what  uncle  him- 
self said  at  lunch  ?" 


t£be  (Greatest  (Bitt,  103 

' '  Yes,  I  heard  it,  right  enough  ;  but " 

"But  what?" 

"  Well,  I  couldn't  believe  it,  and  that's  straight.  But 
I  say,  why  was  nothing  said  to  me  ?  I'm  head  of  the 
family,  and  have  got  to  look  after  you  two  girls.  Oh, 
you  may  laugh,"  he  said,  reddening  a  little,  as  Nan 
burst  into  a  peal  of  laughter.  "But  it  is  so,  and  you 
know  it.  It  takes  a  man  to  be  head  of  a  family  ;  and 
even  if  a  fellow  isn't  as  old  as  the  girls  by  a  few 
months,  still  he's  boss,  all  the  same." 

"A  few  months.  Why,  Margery's  seven  years  older 
than  you,  and  I'm  five,  Mr.  seventeen-year-old  Boss. 
Do  you  think  the  head  of  the  family  will  forbid  the 
banns  ? " 

"  He'll  chastise  an  unruly  member  of  it,  if  you're  not 
careful,"  said  Guy,  laughing.  "He  can  do  that  part 
of  the  bossing  properly  and  effectively,  at  any  rate. 
But  joking  apart,  Nan,  I  do  think  Marge  ought  to  have 
asked  us." 

"Asked  fiddlesticks,"  returned  Nan  energetically. 
"She  ought  to  have  done  nothing  of  the  kind." 

"Well,  I  wish  she  had,  at  any  rate,  for  then  I  could 
have  given  her  a  bit  of  my  mind  about  it.  I  call  the 
whole  thing  just  beastly  rot,  that's  what  it  is.  Do  you 
think  it's  all  right?" 

"I  think  Margery  is  right  to  do  just  what  she 
pleases,"  replied  Nan,  with  diplomatic  loyalty. 

"Oh,  of  course  you  two  stick  together.  When  did 
Crips  make  an  ass  of  himself,  I  wonder  ?  I  thought 
there  was  something  queer  this  morning.  Old  Marge 
was  looking  as  glum  as  an  empty  lamp,  and  when  I 
spoke  of  Crips  as  Crips,  she  put  on  that  motherly  air  with 


104  TEbe  0reatest  6ift. 


which  she  used  to  physic  me  years  ago,  and  said  I 
mustn't  refer  to  dear  Godfrey  in  that  way,  as  I  should 
hurt  his  feelings  if  he  heard  me.  Dear  old  Marge,  she 
won't  hear  a  word  against  anybody,  but  this  morning 
she  looked  so  ghastly  solemn  that  I  twigged  something 
was  in  the  wind.  But  I  wish  she  wasn't  going  to  do 
this.  I  thought  -  " 

He  stopped  short,  having  spoken  with  such  genuine 
feeHng  that  Nan  looked  at  him. 

"  What  did  you  think,  Guy  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Why,  I  thought  what  you  thought.  You  know 
you  did  :  that  she'd  a  thundering  sight  sooner  have  had 
Alan  Ramsay  than  Godfrey.  And  that's  just  what  licks 
me." 

"You're  very  slangy,  Guy,"  said  Nan. 

"Oh,  yes;  and  you're  very  cute,  aren't  you,  turn- 
ing off  the  question  like  that  ?  Well,  I'm  beastly  sorry, 
whatever  you  are  ;  and  what's  more,  I'm  not  afraid  to 
say  so." 

Nan  said  nothing,  and  as  a  servant  entered  the  room, 
the  conversation  dropped. 

Although  Nan  had  not  expressed  her  feelings  with 
any  such  voluble  energy  as  Guy,  she  was  just  as  much 
puzzled  as  he  was. 

Throughout  the  rest  of  the  day  she  watched  Mar- 
gery closely,  though  she  did  not  mention  the  subject 
of  the  engagement.  She  was  determined,  however,  to 
do  this  when  a  good  opportunity  offered  for  a  long 
undisturbed  confidential  chat  ;  but,  in  the  meantime, 
she  was  anxious  to  make  further  observations,  and  to 
confirm  or  destroy  her  opinion. 

In  Margery,  Nan  was  sure  she  could  see  the  signs  of 


Greatest  6ift  105 

unhappiness.  She  was  acting  a  part  well  enough  to 
deceive  both  the  captain  and  Godfrey,  and  even  Guy, 
but  not  to  mislead  the  girl's  quicker  penetration. 

Godfrey,  for  his  part,  seemed  like  one  transfigured 
with  ecstasy.  He  was  altogether  unlike  himself :  talk- 
ative, cheerful,  and  laughing ;  while  his  eyes  followed 
Margery  everywhere.  His  tale-telling,  sensitive  face 
was  flushed  with  a  heightened  color,  and  his  eyes  shone 
with  happiness. 

The  captain  was  scarcely  less  delighted,  and  his 
laughter  was  frequent  and  boisterous  ;  and  he  cracked 
jokes  with  Nan  and  Guy  about  the  lovers  till  the  pair 
both  blushed. 

After  dinner  was  over  and  they  were  all  in  the  draw- 
ing-room, he  went  and  fetched  down  some  jewels, 
and  put  a  necklet  of  splendid  pearls  round  Margery's 
neck. 

"  For  Godfrey's  wife,"  he  said,  kissing  her. 

Then  he  turned  to  Nan  and  gave  her  a  spray  of 
diamonds  and  pearls,  bidding  her  put  it  into  her  hair 
at  once,  to  mark  one  of  the  happiest  days  of  his  life, 
he  said ;  and  to  Guy  he  gave  a  heavy  good  watch- 
chain. 

"Godfrey  needs  nothing,"  he  said,  with  such  a 
happy  smile,  as  he  took  Margery  by  the  hand  and  led 
her  to  where  his  son  was  sitting.  "  He  has  one  of  the 
finest  jewels  out  of  God's  own  casket,"  and  he  joined 
their  hands  and  kissed  the  girl. 

Then  he  called  for  music,  and  sat  with  his  arm  on 
the  cripple's  shoulder,  while  the  girls  played  and  sang, 
sometimes  alone  and  sometimes  together.  Now  and 
again  he  asked  for  some  favorite  song,  generally  from 


106  Ube  Greatest  0tft, 

Margery  ;  and  as  her  rich,  sweet,  full  contralto  voice 
sang  the  words  and  music  he  loved,  the  measure  of 
his  happiness  seemed  complete. 

He  sent  them  all  away  to  bed  early.  He  was  too 
happy,  he  said,  and  must  be  left  alone  to  get  calm. 
And  when  Margery  lingered  a  few  minutes  with  him 
and  saw  how  happy  she  had  made  him,  she  had  not  a 
thought  of  regret  for  the  price  which  she  had  paid 
for  it. 

When  she  reached  her  room,  she  remembered  there 
was  one  thing  she  had  yet  to  do,  and  she  set  about  it  at 
once.  She  took  from  her  mother's  desk  the  little  packet 
of  what  had  once  been  "her  treasures" — the  trifles 
that  had  been  dear  to  her  for  Alan's  sake.  She  untied 
the  string  with  quick,  nervous  fingers  and  took  out  the 
"  treasures."  She  could  hardly  trust  herself  to  look  at 
them,  and  fought  hard  against  the  temptation  to  kiss 
them.  She  was  brave,  however,  and  strengthened  her 
will  by  thoughts  of  the  captain.  The  dead  flowers 
she  crushed  together,  and  then  separating  petal  from 
petal,  tossed  them  out  into  the  night  air.  The  little 
silver  coin  she  threw  after  them  ;  and  then,  after  she 
had  feasted  her  eyes  for  one  hungry  minute  upon  it, 
she  cut  the  photograph  into  slips,  and  burnt  them  at 
the  gas,  scattering  the  ashes  out  of  the  window  ;  and 
she  burnt  even  the  paper  in  which  all  had  been 
wrapped.  Then  she  closed  the  desk,  and  began  to 
take  down  her  hair,  resolutely  determined  not  to  think 
of  the  past.  But  she  could  not  persevere.  The  love 
of  a  life  was  too  strong  to  be  shut  down  even  by  her 
resolute  will ;  and  after  a  struggle,  she  sat  down  in 
her  low  arm-chair,  and,  covering  her  face  with  her 


Ube  Greatest  Gift.  107 

hands,  yielded  herself  up  to  the  thoughts  that  were  so 
strong  and  so  sweet. 

After  a  while  she  felt  two  soft,  warm  arms  taking 
her  in  a  loving  embrace,  while  Nan's  voice,  sweet  and 
comforting,  whispered  in  her  ear  : 

"Sis-sis,  I've  come  to  know  what  it  all  means. 
Trust  me,  darling.'' 

The  touch  of  sympathy  was  infinitely  sweet  after  all 
the  trials  of  the  day,  and  Margery  was  so  glad  to  feel 
the  girl  near  her  that  she  burst  into  tears. 

Nan,  always  clever  and  tactful,  let  her  cry  without 
saying  a  word,  and  then,  simply  saying  that  she  was 
going  to  sleep  with  Margery,  waited  till  she  got  her 
into  bed  before  asking  anything  more. 

"Now,  little  mother,  I  mean  to  know  everything," 
she  said. 

By  this  time  Margery  had  recovered  something  of 
her  self-possession,  and  was  on  the  defensive. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  everything?  What  is  there 
to  know  ? " 

"You  are  going  to  trust  me  entirely,  that's  what  I 
mean  by  everything.  You  are  going  to  tell  me  why 
you  have  promised  to  marry  Godfrey  when — when  you 
love  Alan  Ramsay." 

Her  voice  sank  to  a  whisper  here. 

"  Hush,  Nan,  you  don't  know  what  you  are  saying," 
cried  Margery. 

"  Do  you  think  I  don't  know  what's  been  going  on 
under  my  nose?"  asked  Nan.  "Do  you  think  I 
haven't  seen  what  you  think  about  Alan,  and  what  he 
thinks  about  you  ?  Oh,  Madge,  Madge,  you  little 
hypocrite.  Now,  will  you  tell  me  ?  " 


108  Ube  Greatest  Gift 

But  Margery  had  covered  up  her  face  as  if  to  hide 
her  blushes  even  in  the  dark,  and  said  feebly  : 

"There  is  nothing-  to  tell." 

"  Well,  I  must  put  it  another  way,  then.  Why  were 
you  quite  yourself  last  night  up  to  the  time  when  you 
had  that  talk  with  uncle,  which  made  you  so  miserable 
afterwards  ?  And  why  was  uncle  so  wretched  up  to 
that  moment,  and  then  so  full  of  spirits  this  morning  ? 
And  why  was  Godfrey  so  excruciatingly  dumpy  right 
up  to  breakfast-time,  and  then  in  such  a  fever  of  de- 
light afterwards  ?  Are  you  going  to  tell  me  the  an- 
swer, or  leave  me  to  read  it  for  myself?  " 

"There  is  nothing  to  tell,  except  that  Godfrey  has 
asked  me  to  marry  him,  and  I  have  promised.  I'm 
very  tired  and  sleepy,  dear." 

"  Very  well,  Margy,"  said  Nan,  in  a  tone  of  resigna- 
tion, kissing  her,  "I  won't  worry  you.  I'm  going  to 
sleep  now.  Good-night." 

She  kissed  her  again,  and  turned  away  as  if  to  go  to 
sleep,  and,  after  a  minute,  said  quietly  : 

"  I  can  wait  till  to-morrow,  and  then  I  can  ask  uncle 
how  it  is  that  he  was  so  delighted  with  what  made  you 
so  miserable.  Good-night." 

"Nan!  Nan,  dearest!"  cried  Margery,  alarmed  at 
the  mere  threat. 

Nan  took  no  notice  except  to  yawn  and  say  good- 
night again. 

"Nan,  don't  go  to  sleep.    I  want  to  talk  to  you,  Nan." 

"What  is  it?  It's  my  turn  to  be  tired  and  sleepy 
now.  You're  too  tired  to  talk.  Go  to  sleep." 

"Don't  tease.  Turn  round  and  tell  me  whatycu 
want  to  know." 


ftbe  Greatest  Olft.  100 

"  If  I  do,  I  shall  be  very  hard  on  you  now,"  said 
\an,  smiling1  to  herself. 

"  Turn  round,  Nan,"  said  Margery,  putting  her  arm 
over  the  other. 

"Will  you  promise  to  answer  my  questions?  " 

"I'll  try." 

"Very  well,  now,"  said  Nan,  turning  round  and 
kissing  Margery,  "tell  me  first,  why  have  you  promised 
to  marry  Godfrey  ?  " 

"Because  he  asked  me,"  replied  Margery. 

"Pouf,"with  an  indignant  breath.  "Do  you  love 
him  ? " 

"We  all  love  him." 

"Yes,  but  we  don't  all  want  to  marry  him,"  was  the 
quick  reply.  ' '  I'll  put  jt  another  way.  Do  you  love 
Alan  Ramsay  ?  " 

No  answer. 

' '  Do  you  love  Alan  Ramsay  ?  " 

"Not  enough  to  be  his  wife." 

"Oh,  you  fibber,  you  prevaricator,  you — Margery  ! 
But  I  know  what  you  mean,"  she  said  shrewdly. 
"  You  mean  not  enough  to  override  the  other  induce- 
ments that  have  prevailed  with  you.  Ah,  you  may 
start ;  but  I  can  see  through  your  flimsy  pretenses. 
Why,  that  day  when  Mr.  Dallas  was  here,  you  showed 
it  so  plainly  that  anyone  could  see  it." 

Then  suddenly,  with  a  rapid  and  complete  change 
from  banter  to  exceeding  tenderness,  the  girl  kissed 
Margery,  and  said  : 

"Nay,  sis-sis,  open  your  heart  to  me,  darling.  Tell 
me  why  you  have  wrecked  your  love,  and  perhaps 
spoilt  poor  Alan's  life,  to  make  this  promise.  I'll  help 


no  Ube  Greatest  (Bift 

you  if  you  tell  me,  and  you  know  I'm  staunch,  don't 
you  ?  Is  it  for  pity  of  Godfrey  ?  " 

The  swift  change  had  conquered  Margery,  who  was 
nearly  in  tears. 

Nan  waited  ;  and,  guessing  the  cause  of  the  other's 
silence,  petted  and  caressed  her. 

"I  don't  think  it's  that,"  Nan  said,  after  a  while. 
"  It  has  had  something  to  do  with  uncle.  Is  it  because 
you  think  it  will  make  him  happy  ?  Is  it  ?  "  Her  tone 
was  soothingly  tender.  "  Is  that  what  was  the  matter 
with  him  last  night  ?  Oh,  I  think  I  see  now.  He 
must  have  found  out  somehow  that  Godfrey  was  mis- 
erable on  your  account.  Did  he  tell  you  that  last 
night  ?  or  is  it  only  that  uncle  thinks  he  would  like  you 
two  to  marry,  and  so  is  pressing  this  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Margery.  "There  is  no  pressure.  I 
have  promised  cheerfully  and  readily." 

"Yes,  with  the  lips,  Madge,  but  not  the  heart." 

"  Yes,  with  the  heart,  Nan,"  said  Margery. 

"  Why,  does  uncle  know  anything  about  Alan, 
then  ?  "  replied  shrewd  Nan,  with  a  dexterous  thrust. 

"No,"  said  Margery  quickly. 

"  Then  he  ought  to  know,  and  some  one  ought  to 
tell  him,"  said  Nan  decisively. 

"No,  no,  no,"  cried  Margery,  "I  will  not  have 
that." 

"But  do  you  think  that  he  would  be  happy  if  he 
knew  what  he  was  doing  ?  " 

"  He  would  be  miserable  if  Godfrey  were  not  made 
happy.  There  is  no  need  for  him  to  know.  He  shall 
never  know,  Nan  ;  there  is  nothing  that  he  need  know. 
My  choice  is  made.  I  shall  never  change.  There  is 


ZTbe  Greatest  <3fft  in 

no  one  in  the  world  whose  happiness  I  so  earnestly 
desire  to  secure." 

''But  whose  happiness  do  you  expect  to  secure  by 
a  loveless  marriage  ?  "  asked  Nan. 

•' Godfrey's,  uncle's,  and  so  my  own."  Then  after 
a  pause,  "Do  you  suppose  there  is  no  higher  aim  or 
thought  than  to  do  what  we  wish  to  do,  to  eat  what 
we  like,  to  drink  what  we  thirst  for,  to  go  where  we 
please,  and — to  marry  whom  we  wish?  I  believe  it  is 
not  only  wiser  but  happier  to  follow  out  what  a  sense  of 
duty  prompts." 

"People  always  say  that  when  they  can't  follow 
pleasure,"  said  Nan,  "But  now  you  are  only  arguing 
yourself  out  of  your  own  doubts.  It  is  not  right  to  fly 
in  the  face  of  inclination  as  you  are  doing." 

"  Whose  inclination — Godfrey's  or  my  own  ?  "  asked 
Margery.  "If  inclination  is  to  be  the  rule,  Godfrey's 
love  for  me  is  stronger  than  mine  for  anybody." 

"Anybody  wouldn't  like  to  hear  that,"  said  Nan. 
She  was  getting  fretful  at  seeing  that  Margery  was 
resolute. 

"I'll  put  a  question  to  you,  Nan,  now.  To  whom 
do  we  three,  you  and  Guy  and  I,  owe  everything  in 
the  world  ?  " 

"To  Uncle  John,"  answered  Nan  promptly. 
"What  sort  of  honor  would  it  be,  when' he  has 
taken  us  into  the  house,  and  Godfrey's  life's  happiness 
is  risked,  and  uncle's  with  it,  by  the  love  which  he  has 
conceived  for  one  of  us,  if  we  were  to  turn  round  and 
refuse  to  make  the  only  kind  of  payment  that  is  possi- 
ble ?  Would  you  like  to  think  in  years  to  come  that 
the  result  of  his  kindness  to  us  three  was  that  he  and 


ii*  Ube  Greatest  Otft. 

Godfrey  were  rendered  unhappy  for  life  ?  Do  you 
think  there  is  no  happiness  for  me  in  thinking  that  I 
can  avoid  that  ?  " 

Nan  was  silent.  She  had  no  answer  to  make  for  the 
moment ;  but  she  was  not  convinced. 

"  I  do  not  say  I  don't  wish  it  could  have  been  other- 
wise. I  do ;  I  wish  it  with  all  my  heart.  I  don't  say 
I  shall  not  have  flashes  of  regret  and  perhaps  unhappi- 
ness.  But  I  shall  at  least  know  that  I  have  helped  to 
ease  the  last  years  of  life  for  him  who  has  made  life 
bright  for  all  of  us.  That  thought  will  always  comfort 
me." 

"  But  what  of  Alan  ?  "  asked  Nan. 

"Don't,  Nan.  Try  to  help  me  to  be  strong,  darling  ; 
for  I  shall  need  all  the  help  I  can  get. " 

"  I  don't  like  what  you  are  doing,  sis-sis,"  said  Nan, 
tenderly.  "I  don't  believe  you  are  right.  I  don't 
believe  it  will  be  for  the  happiness  of  all.  And  if  I  can 
prevent  it  and  yet  be  true  to  you,  I  shall — for  your 
sake.  But  no  one  else  shall  ever  say  a  word  against 
it ;  and  if  I  can  help  you,  you  shall  never  be  in  want 
of  help.  But  I  don't  like  it." 

They  kissed  each  other  as  if  it  were  a  compact,  and 
soon  after  fell  asleep  in  each  other's  arms  like  two 
children — Nan  holding  Margery  in  her  embrace. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"WELL,  my  dear,  of  course  it's  no  business  of  mine, 
but  whatever  has  persuaded  you  to  get  engaged  to 
poor  Godfrey  ?  Your  men  folk  must  be  a  wretched  bad 
lot  about  here,"  and  Mrs.  Rudyer  laughed.  She  had 
been  at  the  Manor  House  two  days,  and  was  sitting 
alone  with  Margery  in  her  room. 

Seeing  that  Margery  made  no  reply  and  did  not  look 
pleased,  she  said  : 

"You  mustn't  mind  what  an  old  married  woman 
like  me  says.  Just  imagine  either  that  I'm  your  con- 
fessor, or  that  we're  back  in  the  old  days  at  school. 
Whatever  did  you  do  it  for? " 

"  What  do  people  generally  get  engaged  for?  "  asked 
Margery,  putting  aside  her  vexation,  and  smiling. 
She  was  fast  developing  her  capacity  to  mask  her  feel- 
ings, and  the  few  days  which  had  passed  since  the 
engagement  had  reconciled  her  to  the  position  and 
the  prospect. 

"Well,  my  dear,  I  got  engaged  for  money,"  said 
Mrs.  Rudyer  candidly  ;  "but  you're  not  the  girl  to  do 
that.  At  least,  you  weren't ;  of  course  you  may  have 
changed.  But  you  always  used  to  have  ideas — I  mean 
quixotic  ideas— about  romance  and  love  and  fiddle- 
sticks of  that  sort." 

"  And  you  ?  " 
8  113 


114  Ube  Greatest  (Btft. 

"  We're  not  talking  about  me,  Margery,  but  about 
you,"  replied  the  other,  dropping  her  eyes,  and  redden- 
ing very  slightly. 

"  What  could  I  do,  Bee,  if  no  one  would  ask  me?" 
said  Margery. 

Mrs.  Rudyer  looked  at  the  girl  keenly  for  a  minute 
without  a  word. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  this  is  a  love  match  ? " 

"  Do  I  look  like  an  heiress  to  be  married  for  my 
wealth  ?  Or  am  I  a  woman  ready  to  sell — to  marry 
for  money  ?  " 

"Sell  yourself,  you  were  going  to  say.  Say  it,  dear  ; 
you  won't  hurt  my  feelings.  I've  told  you  I  did  sell 
myself."  She  spoke  with  quite  unnecessary  vehe- 
mence. "No,  you  don't,"  she  added,  answering  Mar- 
gery's question.  "That's  what  I  say.  It  beats  me; 
for  if  you  love  him,  I'll  eat  him.  You're  a  curious 
girl,  Margery. " 

The  friends  had  not  met  for  some  time,  and  the 
difference  in  the  lives  of  each  had  hastened  the  de- 
velopment of  the  differences  of  disposition,  until  much 
of  the  old  affection  was  gone.  The  news  of  the  en- 
gagement had  surprised  Mrs.  Rudyer  a  great  deal, 
and  she.  was  curious  to  get  at  the  secret  history  of  it. 
But  Margery  had  no  inclination  to  tell  her,  and  no 
intention. 

Nan,  who  had  never  liked  Beatrice,  had  resented 
strongly  some  questions  the  latter  had  put  to  her  on 
the  subject,  and  had  not  hesitated  to  show  her  feel- 
ings. 

Mrs.  Rudyer  was  not  disconcerted.  She  had  gone 
down  to  the  Manor  House  with  one  set  purpose,  and 


Ube  Greatest  6ift  us 

she  determined  to  carry  it  through;  She  wanted  to 
meet  Hugh  Dallas  again,  and  was  both  perplexed  and 
annoyed  when  no  mention  was  made  of  him. 

"By  the  way,  you  wrote  something  in  your  letter, 
Margery,"  she  said  once,  "about  some  old  friend 
of  mine.  Who  was  it  ?  You  didn't  mention  any 
name.  Who  was  it?" 

She  said  this,  thinking  it  showed  her  to  be  absolutely 
uninterested. 

"Yes,  surely  I  must  have  mentioned  the  name, 
Bee,"  answered  Margery.  "It  is  Mr.  Dallas." 

"  Oh,  I  must  have  forgotten  it  if  you  did.  I  remem- 
ber him — at  least  I  think  I  do,"  and  she  knitted  her 
brow  as  if  in  thought.  Margery  knew  nothing  of 
Hugh  Dallas's  proposal.  "  Is  he  nice?  How  did  he 
come  here  ? 

Margery  flushed  at  the  association  of  ideas  suggested 
by  the  question. 

"Yes,  we  all  liked  him.  By  the  way,  did  you  or 
do  you  ever  see  anything  of  Rose  Spencer  ?"  she  asked, 
turning  the  talk  into  a  safer  channel,  and  keeping  it 
there,  much  to  Mrs.  Rudyer's  chagrin. 

The  latter  was  unwilling  to  refer  to  the  subject  lest 
she  should  seem  to  be  thinking  of  Hugh  Dallas,  and 
so  run  a  risk  of  attracting  the  attention  of  the  others. 

When  nothing  was  said  for  a  day  or  two,  she  began 
to  fear  that  her  visit  would  be  fruitless,  and  to  medi- 
tate a  run  over  to  Middlingham,  the  town  where 
Dallas's  paper  was  published.  Asa  matter  of  fact,  she 
was  rather  bored  at  the  Manor  House.  The  house 
was  dull  for  her.  Nan  she  did  not  care  for  ;  Margery 
had  disappointed  her  ;  the  captain  was  not  a  character 


116  Ube  (Breatest  Gift. 

with  whom  she  had  much  sympathy,  and  Godfrey  she 
couldn't  understand.  Guy  was  thus  the  only  person  with 
whom  she  found  much  real  enjoyment,  and  he  voted 
her  an  "awfully  jolly  little  woman."  They  played 
tennis,  and  boated,  and  walked  together,  till  Nan  de- 
clared the  boy's  head  would  be  turned.  He  too  enjoyed 
the  time,  however,  and  as  Mrs.  Rudyer  never  cared 
about  the  consequences  to  other  people,  provided 
she  was  pleased,  they  were  both  well  satisfied. 

A  change  came,  however,  after  a  few  days,  and 
came  suddenly. 

Mrs.  Rudyer  and  Guy  had  been  boating  one  morn- 
ing, and  had  landed  at  a  small  village  about  a  couple 
of  miles  up  the  coast.  There  they  met  Margery,  who 
had  been  visiting  a  sick  woman,  the  wife  of  a  fisher- 
man, and  Mrs.  Rudyer  said  that  she  would  walk  back 
with  Margery,  while  Guy  could  take  the  boat  back. 

This  plan  was  adopted,  and  the  two  started  on  the 
return  walk. 

On  the  way,  there  was  a  cottage  at  which  Margery 
wished  to  call — since  her  engagement  she  had  thrown 
herself  even  more  heartily  than  before  into  her  parish 
work — and  Mrs.  Rudyer,  to  whom  the  "stuffy  and 
smelly  rooms  " — so  she  termed  them — were  disagree- 
able, did  not  go  in,  but  strolled  very  slowly  through  the 
little  village,  and  then  turned  aside  to  wait  on  the 
edge  of  the  cliff. 

Her  stock  of  patience,  never  large,  waned  very 
quickly,  and  after  she  had  tried  to  make  out  Guy,  and 
looked  at  one  or  two  steamers  that  were  passing  out 
at  sea,  and  had  glanced  first  one  way  and  then  another, 
she  turned,  with  a  petulant  exclamation,  "wondering 


Ube  Greatest  6fft  m 

what  on  earth  Margery  wanted  to  loiter  in  a  lot  of  dirty 
cottages  for,"  to  go  back  in  search  of  her. 

As  she  reached  the  roadside  she  started  and  changed 
color,  for  she  came  face  to  face  with  Hugh  Dallas. 

For  a  moment  she  was  overcome  with  confusion, 
but  quickly  recovered  herself,  and  then  was  delighted. 

"Mr.  Dallas,"  this  in  a  tone  of  surprise,  and  then 
holding  out  her  hand,  "  how  are  you  ?  You  have  not 
forgotten  me?  " 

Hugh  Dallas  could  not  suppress  the  signs  of  aston- 
ishment at  finding  her  in  such  a  place.  He  gave  her  his 
hand. 

"I  confess  I  am  astonished.  Not  that  one  need  be 
surprised  at  anything  in  this  world.  But — "  He  looked 
the  question  which  he  did  not  phrase. 

"  How  do  I  come  to  be  here  ?  I  can  see  the  ques- 
tion in  your  face.  I  am  staying  down  here  with  my 
old  friend  Margery  Allingham,  at  Captain  Drury's. 
You  know  them  and  are  probably  going  there.  I  heard 
that  you  were  settled  in  the  neighborhood."  She 
blushed  slightly  as  she  said  this,  and  shot  a  glance  up 
at  him  to  see  how  he  took  it.  "  I  am  glad  indeed  to 
— to  see  you  again."  She  did  not  like  the  look  in  his 
eyes  as  he  turned  them  on  her. 

Hugh  Dallas,  however,  seemed  to  be  not  quite  at 
ease,  and  Mrs.  Rudyer  was  glad  to  think  that  he  was 
so  disquieted  at  seeing  her  again.  It  flattered  her. 

But  she  was  flattering  herself  without  a  cause.  He 
was  not  much  moved  at  seeing  her  again,  although  his 
first  surprise  had  been  considerable.  His  hesitation 
came  from  quite  a  different  cause.  He  and  Alan  Ram- 
say were  on  their  way  to  the  Manor  House,  and  the 


118  Ube  Greatest  Gift. 

latter,  when  passing  through  the  village,  had  caught 
sight  of  Margery,  whom  he  guessed  was  alone.  Hastily 
he  had  arranged  with  Hugh  Dallas  that  the  latter 
should  go  away  and  lose  himself  so  that  Alan  might 
have  an  uninterrupted  opportunity  of  resuming  that 
conversation  which  had  been  broken  off  in  the  rosery. 
Dallas  had  fallen  in  with  the  plan  quite  enthusiastic- 
ally. 

"It's  a  magnificent  chance  ;  you  can't  walk  it  under 
half  an  hour,  old  fellow,"  he  said.  "I'll  take  care  to 
loiter  away  an  hour  at  least,  so  that  you'll  have  no  end 
of  opportunity.  I'll  go  and  lose  my  way  somewhere, 
and  you  stop  and  don't  leave  go  till  you've  got  your 
yes.  Don't  blush,  old  man."  And  with  that  Dallas 
had  walked  away. 

But  when  he  met  Mrs.  Rudyer  he  had  a  double 
difficulty.  He  had  no  mind  for  an  hour's  private  con- 
versation with  her,  and  he  didn't  suppose  she  would 
want  anything  of  the  sort  with  him.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  he"  did  not  want  to  spoil  Alan's  chance ;  and  the 
only  means  of  accomplishing  that  was  for  both  Mrs. 
Rudyer  and  himself  to  "get  lost"  together.  With  a 
laugh  in  his  sleeve  at  his  action  he  determined  to  make 
the  attempt,  and,  to  his  surprise,  when  he  began  to 
walk  away  from  the  high-road,  he  found  the  lady  more 
than  willing  to  go  with  him. 

This  amused  him  immensely,  and  did  much  to  re- 
store his  customary  equanimity. 

"Rum  thing  meeting  like  this, "  he  said,  with  a  smile. 

"  Is  that  all  the  impression  it  makes  on  you  ? ''  she 
asked,  turning  her  pretty  face  for  a  moment  in  his 
direction. 


ttbe  Greatest  Gift  n» 

"What's  the  regulation  sort  of  impression?"  he 
asked. 

"  It's  five  years  since  we  met,"  she  said,  with  a  sigh. 

"Rum  thing,  too,  I  don't  even  know  your  name 
yet,"  and  he  smiled  again,  this  time  with  genuine 
amusement ;  but  his  companion  colored  with  vexa- 
tion. 

' '  Mr.   Rudyer  is  down  with  me  at  the  Manor  House. " 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course.  I  had  heard  it.  Stupid  of  me 
to  forget  it.  But  I  have  such  a  busy  time  of  it  with 
such  heaps  of  names  to  keep  in  my  mind,  that  this  got 
crowded  out.  Let  me  see,  he's  in  soap,  or  pickles,  or 
jam,  or  something  of  that  kind,  isn't  he  ?  I  did  hear." 

"  He's  not  in  anything,"  was  the  reply,  somewhat 
sharply  spoken.  "Except  in  a  company." 

"Oh,  I  see.  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  forget  these 
things  so. "  He  spoke  indifferently,  and  Mrs.  Rudyer 
was  deeply  nettled.  "What  a  splendid  view  of  that 
foreland  we  get  from  here.  Do  you  see  that  ?  " 

He  stopped  and  pointed  to  a  brown  bluff  headland 
which  stood  out  from  the  shore  some  little  distance 
away. 

Mrs.  Rudyer  did  not  even  pretend  to  look  at  it. 

"Ah,  I  suppose  you  know  the  spot  well,"  he  said, 
observing  this. 

She  stamped  her  foot  suddenly  and  petulantly,  and 
looked  at  him. 

"Do  you  mean  to  insult  me  ?  "  she  cried. 

"  Insult  you  ?  Certainly  not.  Nothing  further  from 
my  thoughts." 

"Then  why  do  you  talk  in  that  way?  We  haven't 
met  for  over  five  long  years,  andyouVe  nothing  better 


120  Ube  Greatest  Gift, 

to  speak  of  to  me  than  a  business  I  didn't  understand, 
and  a  nasty  old  rock  that  I  don't  care  a  rap  about. " 

"I'm  very  sorry,  I'm  sure  ;  but  you  see  our  range 
of  topics  may  be  said  to  be  somewhat  limited.  Our 
last  conversation  broke  off  at  a  point  that  can  scarcely 
be  resumed  under  our  present  circumstances — at  least 
not  with  much  practical  advantage,"  he  said  dryly. 

"You  are  cruel.  I  wish  I  had  not  seen  you  again." 
she  said  vehemently,  and  turned  away  from  him. 

"  Isn't  this  a  trifle  unnecessary  ?  "  he  asked,  following 
her. 

"You  are  horrid.  I  wish  I  had  never  seen  you 
again.  You  are  so  different  from  what  I  thought  you 
would  be.  And  if  I  had  never  seen  you,  I  should 
never  have  known  it."  Tears  of  mortification  and 
disappointment  filled  her  eyes. 

Dallas  could  never  bear  to  see  a  woman  in  tears. 

"I  am  sorry  my  clumsy  banter  has  upset  you.  I 
did  not  intend  to  hurt  your  feelings,"  he  said  seriously. 
But  the  next  minute  he  laughed  as  he  added,  "But 
surely  you  see  that  we  have  stumbled  on  an  awkward 
situation,  and  that  the  best  thing  we  can  do  is  to  laugh 
our  way  out  of  it. " 

"  No,  I  don't  see  it  at  all.  This  meeting  is  no  laugh- 
ing matter  to  me.  But  men  change  their  feelings  as 
they  can  their  hats." 

"Or  women  their  engagement  rings,"  said  Dallas  ; 
and  this  pleased  her,  as  it  was  the  first  remark  which 
had  shown  that  he  was  at  all  sensitive  about  the  past. 
"But  do  let  us  be  sensible.  I  don't  mean  that  this 
meeting  is  necessarily  a  laughing  matter — that's  only 
a  play  on  the  words.  The  absurdity  is  that  we  should 


Ube  6reatest  (Mft  121 

either  of  us  think  of  referring  without  a  laugh  to  the 
time  when  we  met  before." 

"Of  course,"  she  said,  with  a  curl  of  the  lip,  "five 
years  would  be  far  too  long  for  any  serious  feeling  to 
survive. " 

"Precisely.  That  is  my  meaning  to  a  hair's 
breadth,"  he  answered,  pretending  to  take  her  seriously. 

"You  are  very  much  changed,"  said  Mrs.  Rudyer, 
flashing  a  look  of  angry  irritation  at  him. 

He  smiled  as,  looking  down,  he  met  her  eyes. 

"  Do  let  us  be  sensible,"  he  returned.  "  Don't  you 
know  the  story  of  a  man  in  the  days  of  '  once  upon  a 
time,'  who,  when  his  daughter  or  his  wife  or  some- 
body who  was  dear  to  him  died,  had  her  heart  taken 
out  and  shut  up  in  a  casket.  He  mourned  or  maun- 
dered over  it  for  a  season,  and  then,  going  out  into 
the  world,  left  it  and  forgot  all  about  it,  till  one  day, 
years  afterwards,  coming  on  it  by  accident,  he  opened 
the  casket  to  see  what  remained  of  the  heart,  and 
found  there  was — nothing  there.  Wise  man  that  he  was, 
he  admitted  to  himself  that  he  was  immensely  relieved 
at  the  result,  and  wondered  how  he  could  have  been 
such  a  fool  in  the  past." 

"Oh,  he  was  immensely  relieved,  was  he?"  said 
Mrs.  Rudyer. 

"Prodigiously  ;  so  says  the  fable." 

"  I  suppose  you  think  that's  a  clever  way  of  telling 
me  what  you  feel  now."  She  did  not  look  at  him  as 
she  spoke. 

"Journalists  have  a  knack  of  wrapping  up  things. 
I  am  a  journalist,  you  know." 

"  Some  journalists  must  be  very  unpleasant  creatures, 


m  tTbe  Greatest  <Wft. 

if  they  don't  answer  questions  more  plainly  than  you 
do." 

"  Maybe  ;  but  you  see  we're  always  dodging  some 
clause  or  other  of  the  Libel  Act,  and  have  to  let  the 
truth  appear  without  breaking  the  law.  It's  good 
practise." 

"  I  don't  think  so, "said Mrs.  Rudyer,  almost  crossly. 
"If  you've  got  anything  to  say,  I  think  you  should 
say  it." 

"Ah,  you'd  make  a  bad  journalist  then.  The  great- 
est of  all  literary  powers  is  that  of  suggestion." 

"And  I  suppose  you  think  your  empty  casket  story 
is  a  clever  piece  of  suggestion  ;  leaving  me  to  apply 
it." 

"  Not  altogether  bad  for  an  impromptu,  perhaps.  A 
bit  crude,  but  not  without  force." 

"  You  are  changed,  indeed,"  she  said,  again. 
"Years  ago  you  would  have  found  something  better 
to  say  than  a  lot  of  insulting  suggestions."  She  was 
getting  very  angry  in  her  disappointment.  "  I  declare 
I'm  almost  inclined  to  believe  that  there's  something 
injurious  in  the  air  of  the  provinces.  Everybody  seems 
changed,  and  changed  for  the  worse,"  and  she  jerked 
up  her  head  as  if  to  give  emphasis  to  the  opinion. 

"Ah,  a  very  small  flaw  in  the  mirror  will  throw 
the  reflection  of  what  we  see  in  it  out  of  all  propor- 
tion." 

"  I  suppose  you're  digging  at  me  again  with  another 
suggestion  that  I  am  changed  and  not  the'  others. 
That's  nonsense ;  I  never  in  my  life  went  to  a  place 
with  happier  anticipations  than  I  came  with  to  the 
Manor  House — and  now,  everything's  horrid,"  and 


Oreatest  Gift.  123 

her  voice  sounded  as  if  tears  of  vexation  were  not  far 
off. 

"I  am  sorry,"  began  Dallas,  with  commonplace 
courtesy. 

"You're  not  sorry  a  bit,  and  you  know  it.  You 
don't  care  a  bit,  not  a  scrap.  You  said  so  ;  or  sug- 
gested it — which  is  worse.  You're  worse  than  Mar- 
gery, and  she's  not  a  bit  like  herself.  Ever  since  her 
engagement " 

It  was  Dallas's  turn  to  interrupt  now. 

"Her  what?"  he  cried. 

"  Her  engagement  to  Godfrey  Drury.  Why,  what- 
ever's  the  matter?"  She  looked  up  in  astonishment 
as  her  companion's  feelings  found  vent  in  a  whistle. 
"  Is  that  another  suggestion  ? "  she  asked,  with  a 
curled  lip.  "Does  it  mean  that  you  are  surprised? 
Because  I  was,  I  can  tell  you.  I'm  sure  there's  some- 
thing behind,  though  what  it  is  I  can't  find  out.  Is 
there  anything  unexpected  ?  " 

Hugh  Dallas  had  let  her  run  on  in  this  way,  partly 
because  he  was  too  surprised  to  say  much,  and  partly 
to  hear  all  that  she  might  have  to  say.  But  he  deter- 
mined to  tell  her  nothing.  It  was  quite  evident  to  him 
that  discretion  was  not  a  strong  point  in  Mrs.  Rud- 
yer's  character. 

"I  did  not  know  of  the  engagement.  But  that  is 
only  because  I  am  not  here  much.  As  for  being  sur- 
prised— of  course,  one  is  surprised  at  any  one  getting 
engaged." 

"What  a  nasty  little  sneer,"  said  the  lady.  "I  be- 
lieve it  only  dates  from  a  day  or  two  back.  But  they 
are  such  a  curious  couple  to  fall  in  love  with  one  an- 


124  Ube  Greatest  (Bitt 

other  ;  and  Margery  declares  and  sticks  to  it  that  it's 
a  regular  love  match.  It's  curious,  isn't  it  ? " 

"  You  mean  that  you  think  it  ridiculous  that  any 
two  people  should  marry  merely  because  they  love 
each  other — or  think  they  do  ?  I  agree  with  you." 

"  Oh,  you  are  horrid.  You  know  I  don't  mean  any- 
thing of  the  kind.  I  mean  that  it's  extraordinary  that 
such  a  girl  as  Margery  should  marry  such  a  poor  fellow 
as  Mr.  Godfrey." 

"Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon.  Yes,  it  is  extraordinary — • 
especially  if  they  are  not  in  love  with  one  another  and 
if  he  is  not  very  wealthy.  But  it  must  be  one  or  the 
other,  I  should  think." 

"Did  that  man  when  he  found  the  empty  casket 
stamp  on  it,  and  kick  it,  and  spit  on  it,  and  try  to 
thump  holes  in  it  ?  " 

"Good,"  cried  Dallas.  "  You  have  scored  a  point. 
He  wisely  buried  it  and  went  about  doing  his  ordinary 
work,  and  so  forgot  that  he  had  ever  even  looked  inside. 
And  now  that  we've  settled  that  and  thoroughly  under- 
stand each  other,  let  us  hasten  on  to  the  Manor  House. 
Lam  anxious  to  hear  the  news." 

This  was  very  true.  He  was  very  anxious  to  know 
what  had  chanced  to  Alan. 


CHAPTER  X. 

ALAN  RAMSAY  had  been  delighted  at  the  chance  which 
luck  had  thrown  in  his  way  of  getting  a  quiet  half- 
hour  alone  with  Margery.  During  the  whole  of  his 
yachting  trip  he  had  been  dwelling  on  the  incident  of 
that  interrupted  conversation  in  the  rosery,  where  he 
had  seen  what  he  judged  to  be  positive  proofs  that 
Margery  cared  for  him. 

He  had  declared  to  himself,  and  to  Hugh  Dallas 
when  the  two  met,  that  he  would  use  the  first  oppor- 
tunity he  could  find  or  make  to  get  her  to  promise  to 
be  his  wife. 

He  waited  restlessly  for  her  to  come  out  of  the  cot- 
tage and,  thinking  to  prepare  for  her  all  the  greater 
surprise,  he  sauntered  a  few  steps  along  the  village  to 
a  point  where  the  road  made  a  turn,  and  took  up  a 
position  from  which  he  could  watch  her*  approach, 
himself  being  unseen. 

His  heart  beat  high  with  anticipated  pleasure,  though 
he  felt  a  little  nervous,  as  he  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
cottage  door  where  he  had  seen  her. 

She  came  out  at  length  and  looked  about  her. 

"  Looking  for  me,"  thought  Alan,  smiling  to  himself. 
"  Didn't  think  she  saw  me." 

He  was  wrong,  of  course.  Margery  was  looking  for 
Mrs.  Rudyer,  and,  feeling  at  a  loss  to  know  where  the 


126  Ube  Greatest  <3ftt 

latter  could  be,   walked  slowly  on,   casting    her  eyes 
about  her  for  some  signs  of  the  other. 

"Looks  pale,"  thought  Alan,  "  and  thoughtful.  But 
I  fancy  I  can  change  that.  Hope  nothing's  up.  Dear 
Margery,  I  love  you,  I  love  you,  I  love  you,  "he  whis- 
pered, under  his  breath,  ' '  but  I  don't  feel  quite  as  plucky 
about  telling  you  so  as  I  should  like  to.  I  don't  be- 
lieve she  did  see  me,  after  all ;  that's  not  the  sort  of 
look  I'm  accustomed  to  see  on  her  face  when  she's 
thinking  of  me  ;  and  not  the  look  I  want  to  see,  either. 
Now  for  it,  Alan,"  he  said,  as  Margery  approached 
close  to  the  spot  where  he  was,  and  he  walked  quickly 
to  her. 

There  was  no  doubt  she  had  not  been  thinking  of 
him.  She  changed  color,  or  rather,  all  vestige  of 
color  left  her  face,  and  even  her  lips  ;  she  stopped  and 
looked  at  Alan  as  if  overcome  with  sudden  fear 
Then  she  made  a  great  effort  at  self-recovery,  and  put 
out  her  hand  to  take  that  which  Alan  held  stretched 
out  toward  her. 

"Why,  Margery — Miss  Allingham,  are  you  not 
well  ? "  „ 

"  No,  yes.  I  mean,  you  startled  me.  I  was  not 
expecting  you.  I  was  looking  for  a  friend." 

"A  friend  !  "  he  said,  emphasizing  the  word.  "Am 
I  not—? " 

"  I  mean,  my  friend  Beatrice,  Mrs.  Rudyer,"  she 
interposed,  ' '  an  old  school-fellow.  She  is  staying  down 
at  the  Manor  House  with  us,  and  we  have  been  out 
walking — I  mean,  she  is  walking  back  with  me,  and 
Guy  took  the  boat  back ;  and  then  I  left  her  a  minute 
to  go  and  see  some  people  in  the  village  here,  and  I 


Greatest  <&tft.  w 

don't  see  her.  I  want  her.  I  must  look  for  her.  She 
is  strange,  and  may  lose  her  way,  and  then,  of  course, 
I  should  be  blamed,  and  I  don't  know  what  would  be 
said.  Excuse  me,  won't  you,  I  must  run  and  look  for 
her." 

The  poor  girl  had  gabbled  out  this  long,  broken, 
scrappy  speech  as  fast  as  possible,  not  to  let  Alan  have 
a  chance  of  putting  in  a  word  ;  and  at  the  end  she 
turned  and  walked  back  toward  the  village,  leaving 
Alan  aghast  with  surprise. 

Margery  was  so  confused  and  indeed  distressed  at 
the  meeting  that  she  did  not  quite  know  what  to  do. 
She  was  afraid  of  being  alone  with  Alan — afraid  of 
him,  and  of  what  he  might  say;  but  more  afraid  of 
herself  and  her  weakness  in  his  presence.  If  Beatrice 
could  only  be  found,  she  thought,  it  would  be  all  safe. 

But  Mrs.  Rudyer  at  that  moment  was  a  good  half- 
mile  from  the  spot,  and  without  a  thought  of  Margery. 

Alan  breathed  a  silent  but  fervettt  prayer  that  the 
lady  might  really  have  lost  her  way  ;  but  he  certainly 
could  not  understand  Margery's  intense  solicitude  on 
the  other's  account. 

"  She's  a  kind  little  soul  to  think  of  the  other  in  this 
way,"  he  thought,  "  but  I  don't  think  she  need  be  quite 
so  anxious."  Then  a  smile  broke  slo\vly  over  his  face. 
"Of  course,  it's  the  first  time  we've  been  alone  since 
that  little  business  in  the  rosery  ;  and,  maybe,  she  can 
give  a  pretty  shrewd  guess  at  what's  coming.  Dear 
little  heart  !  "  And  with  that  he  walked  after  her. 

"Is  it  very  necessary  that  we  should  find  your 
friend  ? "  he  asked,  when  he  caught  her  up  ;  and  he 
saw  her  now  turn  as  red  as  before  she  had  turned 


128  Kibe  Greatest  6tft. 

white.  "  Good  sign  that,  "  was  his  mental  com- 
ment. 

"It  is  very  necessary  that  I  should  find  her,  Mr. 
Ramsay.  I  simply  dare  not  go  back  without  her," 
and  this  was  more  correct  than  he  guessed.  "But  I 
don't  want  to  keep  you,"  she  said  ;  and  strive  as  she 
would  she  could  not  make  her  manner  of  saying  that 
appear  other  than  diffident. 

"Where  you  are,  I  stop,"  he  answered  frankly, 
drawing  confidence  from  her  manner,  "  unless  you 
send  me  away.  And  the  longer  your  friend  takes  in 
finding  herself  again,  the  better  I  shall  be  pleased." 
A  smile  lighted  up  his  handsome  face  as  he  said  this. 

But  Margery  did  not  smile. 

"I  really  think  you — you  had  better  not  stay.  I 
have  several  cottages  I  can  call  and  stay  at  here  until 
Mrs.  Ruyder  comes  back." 

"Then  I'll  wait  for  you,  as  I  have  often  waited  be- 
fore, or  better  still^we'll  go  to  the  places  together,  and 
we'll  charter  a  small  boy  or  two  to  keep  a  lookout. 

"I'd  rather  be  alone,"  said  poor  Margery,  in  con- 
sternation at  this  proposition. 

' '  Yes,  I  know,  of  course  you  would, "  answered  Alan, 
with  quite  boisterous  confidence  ;  "but  I -could  not  be 
so  rude  as  to  leave  you." 

He  said  this  in  the  tone  which  plainly  enough  de- 
clared that  he  understood  her  to  mean  this  as  a  sort  of 
propriety  protest,  but  nothing  to  which  he  had  the 
remotest  intention  of  heeding. 

Margery  began  to  give  up  the  struggle  then,  and  set 
her  defenses  in  order  for  what  she  felt  was  now  more 
likely  to  come. 


tTbe  Greatest  Gift  129 

She  wanted  time  to  recover  complete  reassurance, 
and  to  gain  it  she  took  up  a  position  too  near  to  some 
cottage  doors  for  anything  except  commonplaces  to  be 
spoken,  and  stayed  there  as  if  waiting  for  Mrs.  Rudyer's 
return.  Her  belief  was  that  the  latter,  growing  tired 
of  waiting,  had  walked  on  in  the  direction  of  the  Manor 
House,  thinking  that  Margery  would  follow  and  over- 
take her.  Thus  a  moment's  thought  made  her  see  that 
the  sooner  they  started  the  sooner  they  would  catch 
up  Mrs.  Rudyer. 

"  I  think  we  had  better  go  now,"  she  said,  when  she 
felt  that  she  had  recovered  her  composure  sufficiently, 
and  she  started  the  walk  at  a  quick  speed,  thinking 
shrewdly  enough  that  not  only  would  that  cover  the 
distance  sooner,  but  also  that  it  would  check  any  ten- 
dency of  the  conversation  to  get  on  to  dangerous 
topics. 

She  did  not  know  whether  her  companion  had  yet 
heard  of  her  engagement  to  Godfrey  ;  but  whether  he 
had  or  not  the  subject  must  be  a  most  embarrassing 
one.  If  he  had,  she  feared  his  reproaches  ;  if  he  had 
not,  she  naturally  preferred  that  he  should  hear  of  it 
from  some  one  else,  and  this  he  would  be  sure  to  do 
the  moment  he  came  in  contact  with  any  one  from  the 
Manor  House.  Thus  all  her  anxiety  was  to  get  out  of 
the  present  difficulty. 

Walking  very  quickly  under  the  pretext  that  she  must 
make  as  much  haste  as  possible  to  catch  up  Mrs.  Rud- 
yer, she  started  the  topic  of  parish  work,  and  talked  as 
if  her  life  depended  on  no  break  occurring  in  the  con- 
versation. 

Alan  let  her  run  on  in  some  wonderment ;  but  he  set 
9 


130  Ube  0reatest  (Sift. 

it  all  down  to  her  nervousness  about  having  the  rosery 
talk  continued.  But  her  anxiety  and  haste  did  not  alter 
or  lessen  his  determination  one  jot.  He  was  quite  pre- 
pared to  make  an  opportunity  if  needful,  and  he  walked 
along  by  her  side,  casting  occasional  glances  at  her  as 
he  answered  in  monosyllables,  while  he  chuckled  with 
quiet,  pleasurable  self-congratulation  at  what  he  be- 
lieved to  be  the  cause  of  her  nervous  manner  ;  and 
thinking  how  best  to  make  the  opportunity  he  needed. 

He  had  no  need  to  make  an  opportunity,  however. 
The  fates  fought  for  him. 

Margery  was  secretly  rejoicing  at  the  quick  rate  at 
which  they  walked,  and  was  beginning  to  look  out 
confidently  for  signs  of  Mrs.  Rudyer,  when  she  trod  on 
an  awkwardly-shaped  rolling-stone,  which  gave  wa-y 
suddenly  beneath  her  foot,  and  let  her  down  with  a 
nasty  twist  of  the  ankle.  She  gave  a  sharp  cry,  and 
might  have  fallen  had  she  not  made  a  quick  clutch  at 
her  companion's  arm. 

Alan  caught  her  readily  and  willingly,  and  thus  al- 
most before  she  understood  what  had  happened  she 
was  standing  with  one  hand  holding  his  arm,  while 
his  other  arm  was  thrown  round  her  as  an  additional, 
if  not  altogether  needed  support. 

Despite  all  that  it  meant  in  the  destruction  of  her 
plans,  and  despite  also  the  pain  from  her  ankle,  she 
could  not  help  smiling.  She  loved  the  man,  and  the 
sense  of  his  support  and  protection  was  infinitely 
sweet. 

"  If  you  are  not  much  hurt,  Margery,  I  shall  say  it 
serves  you  right,  for  treating  me  thus,"  he  said,  smiling 
in  his  turn,  while  his  face  was  aglow  with  love. 


ttbe  Greatest  Gift  m 

In  an  instant  she  had  recovered  herself,  and,  though 
her  ankle  gave  her  acute  pain,  she  drew  away  and 
stood  alone. 

"  It  is  nothing,"  she  said  ;  but  her  looks  denied  her 
words,  for  she  turned  pale  and  could  scarcely  stand. 

"  You  are  in  great  pain,  I  can  see,"  he  said  gently. 
:<  You  had  better  rest  on  my  arm.  There  is  no  other 
possible  leaning  post  near."  He  added  this  as  he  saw 
her  glance  round  as  if  looking  for  some  support. 

She  was  beaten,  and  knew  it,  but  still  made  a  brave 
effort,  though  she  could  scarcely  trust  herself  to  move 
a  step  unaided. 

"  It  is  nothing.  It  will  be  better  in  a  moment.  I 
want  to  get  home.  I  shall  be  able  to  walk  directly." 

It  was  so  humiliating,  she  thought,  to  have  done 
such  a  stupid  thing,  that  she  was  angry  with  herself. 

"You  will  have  to  take  my  arm,"  said  Alan  quietly. 
"And  you  had  better  do  so  at  once.  It  hurts  me  to 
see  you  suffering  as  you  are.  Come." 

He  took  her  hand  as  he  spoke  and  drew  it  through 
his  arm,  and  she  no  longer  resisted  him. 

"Now,  lean  on  me  as  heavily  as  you  can,  and  let 
us  try  whether  you  can  walk  in  that  fashion.  It  will 
be  slow  work,  but  I  shan't  mind  that,"  he  said,  looking 
down  lovingly.  "  Besides,  it  will  make  up  for  your 
having  teased  me  by  hurrying  so  just  now." 

Margery  did  not  answer,  but  tried  to  hobble  along 
as  well  as  she  could,  in  a  fever  of  impatience  and  ner- 
vousness, and  fighting  all  the  time  against  a  feeling  of 
rare  delight  at  being  with  him. 

"Take  my  stick,"  he  said,  after  a  step  or  two. 
"There,  that's  better.  Are  you  in  much  pain?" 


132  ttbe  Greatest 

"No,  it's  getting  better,  but  I  can  hardly  bear  to 
touch  it." 

"Never  mind.  It  only  means  that  we  shall  be  a 
little  longer  in  getting  to  the  Manor  House.  But  that 
won't  matter  much,  will  it  ?  We've  been  out  often 
enough  for  no  one  to  think  about  that.  And  I  think 
the  captain  would  trust  you  with  me,  eh  ? "  and  he 
laughed  again  with  that  air  of  reckless  confidence  that 
all  was  well. 

"It's  not  of  uncle  that  I  was  thinking,"  said  Mar- 
gery, rather  feebly,  wishing  to  let  him  know  the  truth 
and  yet  afraid  to  tell  him.  "  I  don't  think  Godfrey 
will  be  pleased."  Her  face  went  scarlet  as  she  men- 
tioned his  name. 

But  Alan  laughed  gleefully,  and  rather  boisterously. 

"Well,  I  don't  think  one  need  bother  one's  head 
about  Godfrey.  He's  a  good  fellow  in  his  way,  and, 
I've  no  doubt,  awfully  correct  in  his  propriety  notions. 
But  you  and  I  are  scarcely  going  to  begin  now  to 
worry  about  his  permission  when  to  go  out  or  come 
in.  Why,  it'll  he  Guy  next,  or  perhaps  Don,  will  be 
giving  me  a  lecture." 

"  Don't,"  said  Margery. 

"Very  well.  I  won't  say  another  word  about  that. 
I've  something  else  to  say,  now.  Hadn't  you  better 
rest  a  bit  by  this  gate  ?  " 

"Don't  say  anything  now,"  said  Margery.  "I'm 
not  well." 

"But  what  I'm  going  to  say  won't  hurt  your  health, 
Margery.  It  has  been  half  said  already,"  he  con; 
tinued,  taking  no  notice  of  her  further  protests  and 
attempts  to  speak,  "and  the  half  answer  you  gave  me, 


Greatest  Gift.  133 

though  unspoken,  has  been  in  my  thoughts  all  the 
time  I've  been  on  Tremayne's  yacht.  You  can  guess 
what  I  mean,  can't  you,  Margery  ?  It's  only  what  I 
began  to  say  that  day  in  the  rosery.  That  I  love  you 
and  want  you  for  my  wife." 

When  he  had  begun  this  speech,  and  Margery  felt 
that  she  could  not  stop  him,  she  had  turned  away, 
and,  resting  an  arm  on  the  top  bar  of  the  gate,  held 
her  hand  over  her  face. 

The  bitterness  of  that  moment  was  supreme.  Till 
then  she  had  not '  even  faintly  realized  the  price  she 
had  had  to  pay  for  old  John  Drury's  happiness.  She 
listened  with  a  pain  that  held  her  silent,  and  seemed 
as  if  she  had  to  fight  for  strength  to  play  out  her  part. 
Not  till  the  moment  when  she  was  to  say  the  words 
which  were  to  make  her  appear  false  and  heartless 
had  she  realized  how  infinitely  dear  was  his  love,  how 
essential  to  her  very  life  was  his  good  opinion. 

When  he  stopped  and  stretched  out  his  hand  to  take 
hers,  she  found  courage  and  strength  to  face  him. 

She  turned  and  looked  at  him,  and  he  was  almost 
frightened  by  the  look  of  suffering  that  he  saw  on  it 
and  mistook  the  cause. 

"You  are  ill,  my  darling,"  he  cried  passionately, 
"and  here  am  I  like  a  selfish  brute  losing  myself  in 
talking  of  my  love." 

"Stop,  stop;  please  stop  talking  in — in  that  way. 
Listen  to  me.  I — I  must  not  listen  to  you.  Some- 
thing has  happened  that  you  do  not  seem  to  know 
of.  I—" 

"  I  care  nothing  for  what  has  happened,  if  you  love 
me  as  you  did  the  last  time  we  stood  alone  together, " 


134  Ube  Greatest  Gift. 

he  burst  out  when  she  paused  through  nervousness. 
He  was  all  confidence  and  impetuosity. 

' '  Don't,  please  don't.  Please  say  no  more.  I  thank 
you — I  do  indeed — I  thank  you  for  asking  me — to  be 
your  wife.  But  I  cannot.  I  am — "  The  words  stuck 
in  her  throat. 

"You  cannot  say  you  don't  love  me,  Margery. 
You—" 

"Don't;  you  must  not  say  such  things.  I  must 
not  listen.  I — I  have  promised  to  marry — Godfrey." 

She  was  white  to  the  lips  and  deadly  cold,  and  held 
the  gate  to  prevent  herself  from  falling ;  and  she  was 
afraid  to  look  him  in  the  face. 

There  came  a  long  pause,  during  which  she  just 
glanced  up  at  his  face,  which  bore  a  mystified  expres- 
sion ;  and  she  dropped  her  eyes  at  once  on  finding  his 
fixed  upon  her  face  with  a  good-humored,  inquiring 
look. 

"  Don't  be  frightened,  child,"  he  said,  so  kindly  and 
gently  that  involuntarily  she  looked  at  him  and  began 
to  feel  warm  again.  "I  suppose  there  is  some  mean- 
ing to  this,  but  I  don't  see  it  yet.  I  must  ask  you  one 
question,  if  I  die  for  it.  Look  at  me.  Nay,  I  am  not 
going  to  be  violent  or  terrible  ;  but  I  want  you  to  look 
at  me.  That's  right,"  as  she  raised  her  eyes.  "  Now, 
do  you  or  do  you  not  love  me  ?  Can  you  say  you  do 
not  ?" 

The  pale  face  turned  a  glowing  crimson,  and  the 
light  flashed  into  her  eyes  as  she  dropped  them  before 
the  love  look  he  bent  on  her. 

But  she  said  nothing. 

"I  am  answered,"  he  said.      "And  now  listen  to 


Ube  6teatest  <3fft  135 

me,  for  I  am  in  deadly  earnest.  On  my  word  I  knew 
nothing  of  this  engagement,  or  I  would  never  have 
said  a  word.  I  am  glad  you  believe  that,"  he  said,  in 
answer  to  a  gesture.  "  I  only  got  back  this  morning, 
picking  up  Dallas  on  the  way,  and  I  have  seen  no  one 
to  give  me  even  a  hint  of  this.  But  I  am  glad  I  have 
said  it." 

She  looked  up,  and  he  understood  the  glance. 

"  You  must  hear  me  out.  It  isn't  much  I  ask,  con- 
sidering what  I've  lost.  I  am  glad  I«  spoke,  because, 
without  the  possibility  of  doubt  or  mistake,  you  will 
know  that — what  I  feel  for  you  ;  just  as  I  know  what 
your  feeling  is  for  me.  But  I'll  never  speak  of  this 
again  unless" — and  he  dropped  his  voice — "you 
should  ever  be  free.  I  don't  think  you  can  quite  un- 
derstand all  that  this  may  mean  to  me — I  don't  know 
that  I  should  care  for  you  to  know.  But  I  do  want 
you  to  know  what  I  think  of  you." 

She  started  nervously  and  looked  at  him,  and  he 
smiled. 

"  You're  not  a  girl  to  do  this  without  strong  reason. 
You're  not  made  of  the  sort  that  find  a  pleasure  in 
spoiling  a  fellow's  happiness  and  breaking  his  life.  I 
know  that,  and  I  can  therefore  tell  you  that  the  reason 
which  is  good  enough  for  you,  Margery,  is  good  enough 
for  me.  I  was  ready  to  trust  all  my  chance  of  happi- 
ness in  your  care,  and  I'm  ready  to  swear  now  that 
you  wouldn't  put  all  that  aside  without  thinking  you're 
doing  what  you  believe  to  be  a  higher  duty.  Of  course, 
I  shall  know  your  reason  some  day,  and  when  I  do 
I'm  just  perfectly  sure  that  it's  something  that  will  only 
make  you  dearer  than  ever  in  my  eyes.  So  you  see 


136  ZCbe  6reatest  6ift. 

I  can't  take  this  as  some  other  fellows  might ;  but  it 
isn't  that  I  don't  feel  it." 

He  stopped,  and  the  girl's  heart  was  too  full  for  her 
to  speak. 

She  looked  once  into  his  face  and  held  out  her  hand, 
and  when  he  gave  his  she  pressed  it  in  silence. 

"  I  think  I  understand  what  you  would  say.  You 
trust  me,  and  that's  enough  for  me,  and  on  my  honor 
I'll  never  betray  it." 

He  had  held  her  hand  while  he  spoke,  and  when  he 
finished  he  raised  it  to  his  lips  and  kissed  it. 

"  The  past  is  past,  Margery,"  he  whispered,  looking 
earnestly  at  her.  He  waited  a  minute,  and  then 
spoke  in  a  lighter  tone.  "And  now  we'll  just  pull 
ourselves  together  and  think  about  getting  on  with 
our  walk.  I  think,  if  you  don't  mind,  I  should  like  to 
smoke.  You  see,  a  cigar  helps  a  fellow  out  of  a  mess, 
and  helps  him  get  his  scattered  wits  together.  You'd 
be  astonished,  Miss  Allingham,  if  you  knew  what  a 
cigar  can  do  as  a  cheerer,  or  a  pipe — a  pipe's  even 
better.  Hugh  Dallas  swears  by  a  pipe  too.  What  a 
good  sort  Hugh  is.  You  must  get  to  know  more  of 
him.  I  do  think  he's  one  of  the  most  even-tempered, 
level-headed  fellows  breathing,  and  as  staunch,  by 
Jove,  as  a — as,  what  shall  I  say? — as  a  handcuff. 
Now,  then,  shall  we  make  a  move  ?  " 

He  gave  her  his  arm  again,  and  they  walked  slowly 
on,  Alan  Ramsay  talking  at  a  rate  he  had  never 
talked  at  before,  to  give  the  girl  time  to  recover  herself. 

Soon  the  pain  was  easier,  and  they  were  able  to 
make  better  speed.  In  this  way  they  walked  about  half 
a  mile,  and  were  drawing  near  to  a  row  of  cottages. 


Greatest  6ttt.  137 

"  How  would  it  be  for  you  to  wait  in  one  of  the  cot- 
tages while  I  get  some  kind  of  trap  from  the  Manor 
House  or  somewhere,  to  finish  the  journey  ?  " 

"I  think  it  would  be  better." 

"Good!  I  answered  Alan.  "We'll  manage  tha..." 
Then  he  stopped  suddenly  and  uttered  a  short  exclama- 
tion. He  was  looking  ahead,  while  Margery's  eyes 
were  on  the  ground. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked,   looking  up  to  him. 

"Nothing.  I  seethe  captain  and  Godfrey  coming 
this  way,  that's  all.  Now  we  shall  be  able  to  manage 
splendidly,"  he  added  cheerfully. 

But  Margery  was  frightened,  and  showed  it.  She 
waited  a  minute  and  then  said  nervously  : 

"You  won't — let  anything — of  what  we  spoke  about 
just  now  make — make  any  difference?  " 

"Difference,"  he  cried,  guessing  partly  her  meaning. 
"Why  should  it? — not  a  scrap." 

"  Thank  you."  She  spoke  with  evident  relief  in  her 
voice,  and  felt  less  dismayed  at  the  prospect  of  meet- 
ing the  others. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

GODFREY'S  face  wore  such  a  dark,  forbidding  look  at 
the  unexpected  sight  of  Margery  walking  arm  in  arm 
with  Alan  Ramsay,  that  the  latter  noticed  it  with  some- 
thing very  much  like  dismay. 

"Why,  whatever's  the  matter,  Margery?"  cried  o)d 
John,  his  eyes  alight  with  sympathy  and  concern  at 
seeing  that  the  girl  was  limping  along  painfully. 

"I'm  in  sore  trouble,  uncle,"  answered  Margery, 
leaving  Alan  and  going  to  her  uncle.  "I've  lost  Bea- 
trice, and  have  sprained  or  ricked  my  ankle.  You 
must  be  my  crutch  now.  Mr.  Ramsay  has  helped  me 
along  till  I  am  afraid  he  must  be  tired.  Fortunately 
he  was  there  at  the  time,  or  I  don't  know  what  I  should 
have  done." 

"Very  fortunate,  indeed,"  said  Godfrey,  with  an 
emphasis  that  suggested  a  sneer.  "  I  hope  Margery 
has  not  really  tired  you,  Mr.  Ramsay?" 

He  said  this  to  assert  his  right  to  speak  on  her  be- 
half, and  he  spoke  with  considerable  force. 

"  Not  a  bit,"  answered  Alan,  with  a  tone  of  assumed 
indifference,  which  Dallas  himself  could  not  have  im- 
proved upon.  "  Fact  is,  I  was  rather  glad  to  be  a  bit 
of  use.  Nasty  thing  a  sprain;  and  it  just  makes  all 
the  difference  whether  you  ease  the  joint  at  once.  I 
was  just  saying  to  Miss  Allingham  that  I  thought  she 
had  better  rest  in  one  of  these  cottages  while  I  went 
138 


ttbe  Greatest  <Wft  iao 

to  get  a  trap  somewhere,  when  happily  we  caught 
sight  of  you.  And  as  I  knew  that  under  the  altered 
circumstances  "—he  smiled  as  he  said  this  to  Godfrey, 
who  understood  him  and  flushed — "you  would  be 
anxious  to  take  charge,  I  was  relieved." 

Margery  would  have  thanked  him  with  a  glance  for 
this,  but  he  did  not  even  look  in  her  direction. 

Godfrey  remained  dissatisfied,  however,  and  he  was 
unable  to  prevent  his  suspicions  showing  in  his  looks. 

' '  It's  a  pity  you  did  not  get  some  sort  of  conveyance 
before,  Margery,"  he  said,  somewhat  sharply.  "To 
walk  so  far  as  this  on  a  sprained  ankle  is  bad  for  the 
sprain — and  everything  else." 

"  Let's  hope  it  will  be  all  right  now,"  said  the  cap- 
tain. "  But  I  should  think  Alan's  idea  is  the  best ;  and 
you'd  better  wait  here,  Madge,  while  some  of  us  fetch 
the  means  of  driving  you  home." 

Alan  Ramsay  immediately  volunteered  to  go  to  the 
Manor  House,  and  went.  He  was  glad  to  be  alone, 
so  as  to  let  drop  the  mask  with  which  he  had  hidden 
the  intense  bitterness  which  the  disappointment  had 
caused  him. 

"I  wonder  where  Hugh's  got  to?"  was  his  first 
thought.  "We  must  have  a  chat  over  this  thing  to- 
gether. What  the  dickens  can  be  Margery's  reason  ? " 
Then  he  gave  a  deep  sigh.  "Poor  Margery!  She 
can't  love  that  little  beggar,  and  what  a  look  he  gave 
when  he  came  up.  Gad,  one  might  have  thought  he 
was  going  to  cut  my  head  off.  And  what  a  tone  to 
speak  to  her  in.  She  might  have  been  a  servant.  I 
wonder  who's  set  all  this  blessed  business  agog  ?  I'll 
take  my  oath  that  when  I  all  but  asked  her  that  day 


140  tTbe  Greatest  (Sift. 

in  the  rosery,  she  was  going  to  say  yes.  There's  no 
reason  why  she  shouldn't — at  least,  there  was  no  rea- 
son. There  ts  now,  by  Jove.  But  she  loves  me.  I'm 
as  certain  of  that  as  I  am  of  anything  in  this  world.  I 
know  it,"  and  his  confidence  showed  itself  in  a  smile. 
"But  what  am  I  to  do?  I  don't  want  to  have  to  go 
away  ;  and  yet,  it'll  be  wretched  to  stop  here  and  know 
she's  tied  to  another  fellow.  I'm  hanged  if  I  can  see 
the  way.  Confound  the  little  beggar  !  " 

Muttering  to  himself  on  the  way,  he  made  all  haste 
to  the  Manor  House  and  sent  off  a  carriage  to  fetch 
Margery  home.  Then  he  went  to  try  and  find  Hugh 
Dallas.  He  was  not  successful  in  this,  and  roamed 
about  somewhat  aimlessly  and  very  disconsolately 
until,  on  returning  to  the  Manor  House,  he  met  his 
friend  in  the  grounds. 

"I  am  sorry,  Alan,"  said  Dallas. 

"  How  did  you  know?  "  asked  the  other  in  surprise, 
understanding  him. 

"I  should  have  known  when  I  found  Miss  Ailing- 
ham  waiting  for  a  carriage  which  you  had  gone  away 
to  fetch  and  not  to  return  with.  I  was  there  when  it 
came  up.  But,  in  fact,  I  had  heard  beforehand  about 
the  engagement." 

"  Heard  ?     How  ?     From  whom  ?  " 

"It  turns  out  that  there  is  a  Mrs.  Rudyer  stopping 
here.  I  knew  her  some  time  ago.  She  told  me  all 
about  it." 

"All?" 

"  Well,  no  ;  not  all.  All  she  knows  and  thinks. 
The  first's  not  much,  the  second  is.  But  she  wanted 
to  pump  me." 


Ube  Greatest  <&fft.  '  HI 

"What  does  she  think?  " 

"  That  Miss  Allingham  is  not  marrying  for  love  and 
isn't  the  girl  to  marry  for  money  ;  so  that  it's  a  poser. 
See  ?  " 

"And  what  do  you  think,  Hugh?" 

"Well,  I  rather  take  little  Mrs.  Rudyer's  notion. 
Women  are  pretty  sharp  in  seeing  whether  other  wom- 
en do  or  don't  love." 

"Yes  ;  but  what  can  be  the  motive,  then?  " 

"  Oh,  that's  as  clear  as  a  fire  on  a  frosty  night.  Grat- 
itude." 

"Gratitude!     What,  to  that — to  Godfrey  Dairy?" 

"  Not  at  all.     To  the  old  captain." 

"I  never  thought  of  that.  But  where  can  he  have 
come  in  ?  You  don't  think  he'd — "  He  left  the  sen- 
tence unfinished,  and  looked  inquiringly  at  his  friend. 

"Force  the  girl  to  marry  ?"  said  Dallas.  "No,  I 
don't.  I  believe  he'd  cut  his  tongue  out  first.  No,  no. 
She's  got  hold  of  the  idea  somewhere  and  somehow 
that  this  business  will  please  him,  and  she's  gone  for  it 
straight  away.  Some  women  are  awfully  queer  in 
that  way  ;  and  they  think  it's  wrong  to  do  what  pleases 
them,  and  that  the  good  they  do  is  to  be  measured  by 
the  misery  which  they  themselves  feel.  I  haven't  a 
shadow  of  a  doubt  that  that  girl — staunch,  brave,  true- 
hearted  little  woman  as  she  is — has  chucked  away  her 
happiness  with  about  as  much  reluctance  as  I  should 
toss  a  box  of  good  cigars  into  the  fire,  just  because  she 
fancied  she  could  make  the  old  captain  happy  by  marry- 
ing the  son.  Yet  she  might  have  thought  a  little  more  of 
the  man  whose  happiness  she  was  chucking  away  at 
the  same  time." 


142  "Ebe  Greatest  <Wft. 

"  Don't  say  that,  Hugh,  don't  say  that.  I  don't 
question  her  right  to  do  as  she  pleases— just  exactly  as 
she  pleases." 

Dallas  was  lighting  a  cigarette,  and  looked  up  at  Alan 
as  he  spoke,  holding  the  lighted  match  till  it  burned  his 
ringers. 

"  You  take  it  well,  old  man.  Some  fellows  would 
have  felt  nasty  over  a  spill  of  the  kind.  I  did,  for  one." 

"  You  ?     Have  you  ever — ?  " 

"Been  through  the  mill?  Yes,  I  know  what  it  is  to 
be  ground  small  between  the  upper  stone  of  regret  and 
the  nether  one  of  humiliation." 

"  I  know  no  humiliation,"  answered  Alan,  with 
quick  loyalty;  "it  will  make  no  difference  to  my 
feelings.  I  know  she  cared  for  me  ;  that's  enough.  I 
shall  never  change  to  her.*' 

"The  other  said  she  cared  for  me  as  well;  and  I 
thought  I  should  never  change.  But  I  thought  I  was 
a  bigger  fool  than  I  really  was.  But  then,"  he  added 
quickly,  covering  a  remark  which  he  knew  would 
grate  on  the  other's  feelings,  "  I  was  chucked  for  coin 
— or  rather  for  want  of  it.  And  I  can  tell  you  this, 
Alan.  If  a  man  can  take  it  as  you've  taken  it,  it's  the 
finest  experience  he  can  go  through.  Talk  about 
mentatonics  ;  there's  nothing  in  the  whole  wide  world 
gives  a  man  a  finer  fillip  and  sets  him  on  his  sea  legs, 
better  than  having  to  fight  his  way  back  to  faith  in  his 
kind,  till  he  is  able  to  turn  on  that  tempting  devil  of 
cheap  cynicism  and  unfaith  and  say  'get  back!' 
But  that  particular  devil  holds  good  cards  and  knows 
how  to  play  them,  too,  and  for  a  long  time  scores  most 
of  the  points. " 


Greatest  Gift  143 

"But  I  have  not  lost  my  faith,  Hugh.  Though  if 
it  would  make  me  half  as  good  a  fellow  as  you  are,  I 
shouldn't  mind.  I  understand  why  you've  told  me 
this,  now  ;  and  I  think  I  shall  pull  through  all  right. 
There's  a  difference  in  the  cards — the  motive.  If  I'd 
been  bowled  over  for  money  by  such  a  girl,  I  admit  I 
would  have  jibbed.  But  I  know  so  thoroughly  that 
the  motive's  all  right,  that  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  can  help 
feeling  in  a  way  that  she's  probably  done  the  right 
thing. " 

"  Might  be  ;  if  there  was  any  chance  of  making  that 
curious  fellow  really  happy.  But  there  isn't,"  and 
Dallas  shook  his  head.  "Not  a  bob's  worth  of  a 
chance.  So  that  the  girl  is  just  throwing  away  all  that 
she  cares  about  for  nothing.  Some  day,  aye,  and  a 
soon  day  too,  she'll  find  that  out  for  herself;  and  then 
the  ashes  may  set  her  teeth  on  edge  with  a  vengeance." 

"What  can  we  do?"  asked  Alan,  somewhat  help- 
lessly. 

"Nothing,  that  I  can  see,"  was  the  prompt  answer. 
"Unless  you'd  like  the  task  of  trying  to  open  the  old 
captain's  eyes  to  the  truth — which  would  be  about  the 
shortest  cut  possible  to  making  him  miserable  and  the 
girl  too.  No,  no,"  he  added  sententiously,  "the  fact 
is,  all  these  good  people  have  gone  a  little  wrong  with 
the  mental  perspective.  You  know  what  happens  when 
a  drop  of  belladonna  is,  dropped  into  your  eye  and  the 
focus  all  goes  wrong,  from  temporary  paralysis.  That's 
the  matter  here  with  the  mental  vision.  It'll  probably 
come  right  after  a  time — though  there  may  be  some 
awkward  complications  meanwhile.  But  you'd  best 
leave  things  to  right  themselves." 


144  Ube  ereatest  (Btft. 

"  They  won't  right — so  far  as  I'm  concerned,  Hugh," 
said  Alan  despondently.  "I  suppose  I'd  best  clear 
out. " 

"If  you  want  to,  yes.  If  you  don't,  no.  Just  let 
things  go  on.  Saves  an  awful  lot  of  bother  that.  Plenty 
of  fresh  air,  and  plenty  to  do  to  pan  out  the  time — and 
you'll  do." 

"  Yes,  I  daresay  ;  but — well,  you  see,  it  knocks  a 
fellow  out  of  time  a  bit,"  and  Alan  smiled  rather  feebly. 

"  Don't  see  that  it  should  in  this  case  ;  if  you're  still 
keen  on  winning — and  she  is  a  girl  worth  fighting  dev- 
ilish hard  for — you've  got  the  best  card  in  the  game — 
the  ace  of  hearts  ;  and  if  you  hold  back  you  ought  to 
win. " 

"  What !  in  face  of  this  engagement  ?  "  cried  Alan, 
so  eagerly  as  to  show  how  strongly  he  felt. 

"  Tisn't  the  engagement  keeps  you  two  apart ;  it's 
something  a  good  deal  more  difficult  to  tackle  than 
that.  The  old  captain's  heart  and  Miss  Margery's 
niche  in  it.  You'll  never  marry  Margery  Allingham 
unless  you  find  a  way  to  open  old  John  Drury's  eyes 
to  the  truth  without  breaking  his  heart,  or  unless  you 
hit  on  a  means  of  cooling  or  killing  the  son's  passion." 

He  spoke  slowly  and  with  emphasis. 

A  long  pause  followed,  in  which  Dallas  lighted  and 
half-smoked  a  fresh  cigarette. 

"  Should  I  bore  you,  Hugh,  if  I  told  you  what  passed 
to-day  ?  "  asked  Alan,  with  a  smile  that  suggested  a 
feeling  of  awkwardness. 

"  I've  been  waiting  for  it,"  was  the  reply  ;  and  then 
the  other  told  him  the  outline  of  what  had  happened, 
and  Dallas  listened  attentively. 


6reate0t  (5tft.  145 

"  I  don't  see  that  it  could  have  been  much  better  un- 
der the  circumstances,"  was  his  comment.  ' '  You  took 
the  best  road,  and  the  other  man  took  the  worst.  And 
if  you  did  this  when  all  was  against  you  and  in  his 
favor,  what  mayn't  one  expect  to  happen.  I  wonder 
what  the  others  say  about  it  all.  IJd  bet  my  life  that 
the  sister  could  say  a  good  deal  if  she  pleased." 

"What!  Nan?  Oh,  I  don't  know.  She's  not  the 
sort  of  girl  to  enter  much  into  such  a  girl  as  Margery's 
feelings." 

"  No  ?  Perhaps  not,  though  I  fancy  she's  a  pretty 
cute  young  woman,"  was  the  reply,  and  soon  after  that 
they  went  into  the  house. 

Margery  remained  a  long  time  in  her  room,  Nan  be- 
ing with  her,  while  Mrs.  Rudyer  spent  the  afternoon 
in  maneuvering  to  keep  Hugh  Dallas  in  attendance 
upon  herself  and  away  from  the  others. 

Dallas  perceived  her  intention  quite  plainly,  and 
would  have  taken  means  to  frustrate  it  had  he  not  been 
spared  the  trouble  from  a  cause  which  amused  as  well 
as  interested  him.  Guy,  who  thought  he  was  being 
hardly  used,  persisted  in  remaining  close  to  her,  and 
Hugh  had  no  difficulty  in  understanding  pretty  much 
what  had  happened. 

"  She's  been  flirting  with  the  youngster,"  he  said  to 
himself,  "  and  can't  shunt  him  now  when  she  wants 
to.  That's  rich.  Should  like  to  tell  Alan.  Serves  her 
right.  By  Jove  !  what  a  difference  five  years'  absence, 
plus  the  capacity  to  keep  your  eyes  open,  make  in  the 
way  you  read  a  woman.  How  can  I  ever  have — ? 
H'm  !  She's  awfully  pretty.  No  doubt  about  that. 
Prettier  than  ever,  so  far  as  that  goes.  But —  Well, 


146  Ube  Greatest  6fft 

in  the  old  time,  I  should  have  wanted  to  kick  that 
young  beggar  over  the  cliff  for  being  a  nuisance,  and 
to-day  I'm  hanged  if  I  shouldn't  like  to  tip  him  with 
half-a-sovereign." 

He  smiled  to  himself  under  his  mustache,  which  he 
was  stroking,  as  he  leant  back  in  his  garden-chair, 
thoughtfully  watching  the  two,  the  others  being 
away. 

"Hullo,  she's  done  it  at  last,"  he  thought,  as  Guy 
ran  up  to  the  house,  laughing,  and  saying  he'd  be  back 
in  a  moment. 

"  Aren't  boys  a  nuisance,  Mr.  Dallas  ?  "  said  Mrs. 
Rudyer,  turning  with  a  laugh  to  him. 

"I  like  Guy,"  he  replied.  "He's  a  bright,  frank, 
quick  lad,  and  full  of  good-nature." 

"Oh,  yes,  he's  a  dear  fellow.  But  boys  are — well, 
they're  only  boys,"  with  a  laugh,  ' '  and  you  can  have 
too  much  of  them. " 

"Like  marmalade,  you  mean,  'an  excellent  sub- 
stitute for  butter  at  breakfast,'  but  yet  not  butter,  and, 
if  taken  in  too  large  quantities,  they  cloy.  They're 
not  men,  in  fact." 

"They're  much  more  useful  and  agreeable  than  some 
men,"  answered  Mrs.  Rudyer,  a  little  coquettishly. 
"I'm  sure,  I  don't  know  what  I  should  have  done  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  Guy.  Everything's  so  awfully  solemn 
here  now  since  this  engagement  of  Margery's.  What 
a  nice-looking  man  your  friend  Mr.  Ramsay  is  ?  and 
how  fortunate  that  he  was  with  Margery  when  she 
hurt  her  ankle.  Poor  girl,  I'm  afraid  she  was  suffer- 
ing agony.  I've  never  seen  any  one  look  so  pale  and 
worried  before  with  a  mere  sprain  as  she  looked  when 


the  Greatest  Gift  u? 

we  found  her  in  that  cottage  waiting  for  the  carriage 
which  Mr.  Ramsay  had  hurried'  away  so  readily  to 
fetch." 

She  accompanied  this  with  a  look  which  was  even 
more  significant  than  the  words. 

"Some  women  are  awfully  susceptible  to  pain,  and 
a  sprained  ankle  is  always  a  bad  business  when  you 
have  to  walk  on  it,"  answered  Dallas. 

"  Yes,  indeed.  How  lucky  she  was  to  have  Mr. 
Ramsay's  arm  to  lean  on ;  but  dear  Margery  was 
always  a  fortunate  girl.  Now  that  you've  seen  all 
that  you  have  seen,  Hugh — I  beg  pardon,  I  mean  Mr. 
Dallas — do  you  think  dear  Margery  is  marrying  for 
love  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  possibly  tell  ?  " 

Mrs.  Rudyer  laughed,  and  the  laugh  made  her  face 
very  pretty. 

' '  No,  I  suppose  not.  I  suppose  that  since  you  turned 
editor  you've  learned  to  shut  your  eyes  and  close  your 
ears — instead  of  using  them  as  in  the  old  times.  Have 
you  talked  this  over  with  Mr.  Ramsay  ?  Is  he  as  in- 
different as  you  are  to  it  all  ?  "  she  asked,  laughing 
roguishly,  and  shaking  her  head  at  him.  "Ah,  Mr. 
Dallas,  you  can't  impose  on  me  in  that  way,  quite. 
I'm  not  blind  if  you  are." 

"I  am,"  he  said.  "I'd  rather  be  blind  than  go 
bothering  into  things  that  don't  concern  me." 

"Thank  you,"  returned  Mrs.  Ruyder  petulantly. 
"  It's  very  nice  to  be  snubbed  in  that  way.  You  know 
I  always  liked  that  sort  of  thing."  Then  in  a  different 
tone,  full  of  regret,  "Ah,  Hugh,  I  wouldn't  have 
thought  you  could  change  so  !  " 


148  Ube  Greatest  (Sift. 

"Margery  wants  to  know  if  you  can  go  up  to  her 
for  a  minute  or  two,  Mrs.  Rudyer.  Can  you  ?  " 

Both  started  and  turned  round  to  find  Nan  standing 
close  by  them. 

"Yes,  dear,  of  course  I  will,"  said  Mrs.  Rudyer, 
with  clever  readiness  and  tact,  though  fuming  inwardly 
at  the  interruption.  "Excuse  me,  Mr.  Dallas.  Are 
you  coming,  Nan  ?  " 

"In  a  minute,"  answered  the  girl.  "I  want  a 
breath  of  air  after  the  sick-room.  It  always  gets  to  my 
head,"  and  she  sat  down  in  one  of  the  garden  chairs. 

Hugh  Dallas  speculated  as  to  whether  the  girl  had 
overheard  Mrs.  Rudyer  address  him  by  his  Christian 
name,  and  was  more  than  annoyed  that  anything  of 
the  kind  should  have  occurred.  Moreover,  there  was 
a  spice  of  the  ridiculous  in  the  position  which  touched 
him  more  than  anything  else. 

As  soon  as  Mrs.  Rudyer  had  disappeared  into  the 
house,  Nan  got  up  from  the  garden  chair. 

"I  think  I  should  get  more  air  if  I  were  to  walk, 
don't  you,  Mr.  Dallas  ?  Would  you  like  a  turn  round 
the  grounds  ?  " 

"Certainly  I  should,''  answered  Dallas,  surprised, 
and  asking  himself  what  was  coming  next. 

They  went  some  way  in  silence,  and  the  girl  took  a 
path  to  a  secluded  part  of  the  grounds. 

"  Are  you  a  diplomatist,  Mr.  Dallas?"  she  asked, 
looking  at  him  and  smiling. 

"  A  diplomatist?"  he  echoed.  Was  the  girl  going 
to  chaff  him  about  what  she  had 'overheard  ? 

"Yes.  A  diplomatist  in  the  sense  of  being  able  to 
help  other  people  to  say  what  they  don't  know  how  to 


Ube  Greatest  fcfft.  149 

say?  I'm  an  ambassadress,  just  now.  My  diplomacy 
was  exhausted  when  I  got  Mrs.  Rudyer  to  go  indoors 
and  then  led  you  away  here  so  that  we  should  not  be 
interrupted,  and  I  could  try  and  say  what  I'm  sent  to 
say.  But  I've  broken  down  now. " 

She  blushed  and  laughed  so  pleasantly  that  Dallas 
was  quite  struck  by  her  looks. 

"The  best  diplomacy  I  generally  find  is  to  say 
out  plumb  and  square  what's  got  to  be  said,"  he  an- 
swered. 

"  I  will,  then,"  said  the  girl.  "You  know  all  about 
Alan  and  Margery,  don't  you  ?  " 

This  was  plumb  and  square  indeed,  and  the  question 
took  him  by  surprise,  and  he  hesitated.  She  looked 
at  him  and  smiled. 

"I  think  I  can  see  you  do.  It'll  save  me  a  lot  of 
trouble  if  you'll  just  say  yes." 

"Yes,  I  think  I  do.''     It  was  his  turn  to  smile. 

"Of  course.  Alan  told  you.  I  found  it  out  for 
myself.  I've  known  it  ever  so  long.  I  always  thought 
it  would  end  that  way  as  it  ought  to  have  ended. 
And  now  here's  all  this  trouble.  Poor  Alan,"  and  she 
sighed. 

"  Why  only  poor  Alan  ?  " 

"Why  not  poor  Margery  as  well,  you  mean?  I 
don't  think  it's  as  hard  for  her  as  for  him.  She  thinks 
she's  doing  right  and  making  everybody  except  Alan 
happy — and  herself,  of  course.  But  Madge  never  has 
thought  of  herself.  I  do  believe  she's  the  most 
unselfish  creature  that  ever  drew  breath,"  she  cried 
enthusiastically.  "  I'm  quite  sure  in  all  this  she  has 
never  thought  of  herself,  it's  always  been  of  others. 


150  tTbe  Greatest 

But  Alan  can't  look  at  it  in  that  way,  of  course.  He's 
a  man,  you  see." 

"And  are  men  so  incapable  of  appreciating  unself- 
ishness ? " 

He  was  amused  and  interested. 

"No,  I  don't  mean  that,  of  course.  They're  not  like 
women  in  these  things.  But  then  Alan  doesn't  under- 
stand things,  and  one  can't,  of  course,  explain  them  ; 
though  I  should  like  to.  I  can't  bear  the  idea  of  his 
thinking  ill  of  Madge  ;  thinking  of  her  as  a  flirt,  when 
in  reality  she's  just  the  noblest  girl  in  the  world." 

"You  are  a  staunch  champion,  Miss  Nan,"  said 
Hugh. 

"Ah,  you  don't  know  Margery,  Mr.  Dallas,  or 
you  wouldn't  wonder  at  anything  I  may  say  in  her 
praise." 

"  Is  not  Alan  to  know  the  reason  for  this  ?  " 

"  Am  I  going  to  telljyou,  do  you  mean  ? "  she  asked, 
laughing.  "It's  not  my  secret  or  perhaps  I  might. 
It's  Margery's.  I'm  afraid  I've  already  said  more  than 
Madge  would  have  let  me  say  if  she  could  have  known. 
But  I  know  I'm  safe  in  speaking  to  you." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Dallas.  ' '  That  is  what  I  should 
wish  you  to  feel." 

"I  do  feel  it,  and  it  is  such  a  relief  to  have  some 
one  to  talk  to  about  this.  Don't jyott  think  it's  terrible 
to  see  such  a  shipwreck  of.  their  happiness  ?  " 

"  Will  the  ship  be  utterly  wrecked,  and  go  to  pieces 
beyond  hope  of  recovery  ? "  he  asked. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said,  speaking  slowly  and 
thoughtfully.  "Sometimes — but  there,  I  shall  let  out 
everything,  for  I'm  just  longing  to  tell  you.  But  I 


Ubc  Greatest  (Mft.  i»i 

mustn't  yet,"  she  added,  glancing  swiftly  at  him. 
"  Perhaps — "  she  paused. 

' '  When  you  know  more  of  me,  you  mean  ? "  he 
said. 

She  nodded  and  laughed. 

"  Not  that  I  should  trust  you  more  than  I  do.  There's 
no  need  for  that.  But — well,  I  would  say  that  I  can't 
without  Margery.  You'll  think  me  an  extraordinary 
girl,  and  I  declare  I've  been  chattering  all  this  time  and 
haven't  now  said  what  I  wanted  to  say,"  she  added. 

"And  that  is  ? ''  he  asked. 

"Well,  we  want  Alan — I  mean,  we  don't  want  Alan 
to — to  let  anything  of  what  has  happened — "  she  colored 
and  stopped.  "  I  don't  know  how  to  put  it.  It 
sounded  all  right  when  I  was  with  Margery ;  but  I 
can't  say  it  now." 

"  Let  me  say  it  for  you,"  said  Dallas.  "You  mean, 
don't  you,  that  the  reason  for  all  this  sad  trouble  is  one 
which  makes  it  necessary  or  very  desirable  that  no  one 
except  those  who  know  the  secret  should  suspect  its 
existence ,  and  that  it  is  best  for  Alan  to  come  here 
just  as  usual — if  he  can,  that  is — and  not  let  it  seem 
that  this  engagement  has  driven  him  away  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Nan,  "  that's  it.     Do  you  think — ?  " 

"Oh,  yes;  Alan  is  staunch,  and  will  do  all  in  his 
power  to  help  your  sister.  We  have  talked  this  over, 
and  if  you  would  like  to  know,  he  has  not  a  jot  or 
tittle  of  anger  in  all  his  thoughts." 

"And  will  you — ?  "  she  stopped  again. 

"  Yes  ;  I'll  let  him  understand  in  a  roundabout  way 
what  he  is  wanted  to  do.  And  I'll  see  that  it  doesn't 
come  to  him  from  you  or  your  sister." 


158  Ube  Greatest  Gift. 

Nan  held  out  her  hand. 

"I  knew  we  could  trust  you,"  she  said,  looking  into 
his  eyes. 

"You  may,  absolutely,"  he  answered. 

Then  suddenly  a  change  came  over  the  girl.  She 
started  somewhat  nervously,  and  her  face  crimsoned. 

"  You  won't  mention — I  mean — I  was  sorry  to  inter- 
rupt you  just  now — but — " 

Dallas  understood  her. 

"The  interruption  was  welcome,  I  assure  you.  I 
shall  not  mention  it  to  any  one." 

"I'm  afraid  I'm  not  much  of  a  diplomatist,"  she 
said,  and  laughed — but  the  laugh  was  forced,  and  Dal- 
las judged  that  the  recollection  of  what  she  had  over- 
heard from  Mrs.  Rudyer  had  somewhat  embarrassed 
her  ;  but  not  knowing  what  to  say  he  remained  silent. 

"I  must  go  in.  I  have  been  longer,  much  longer 
than  I  meant,"  said  the  girl. 

They  turned,  and,  after  they  had  gone  a  short  dis- 
tance, Nan  made  an  excuse  and  slipped  away  by  a 
near  path  leading  through  one  of  the  kitchen  gardens. 

Hugh  Dallas  followed  her  with  his  eyes  till  she  dis- 
appeared. 

"That's  a  girl  in  a  thousand,  and  carries  a  brave 
little  soul.  Pretty,  too.  Lucky  fellow  the  man  who 
wins  her.  She's  as  straight  as  she's  staunch;  hope  the 
fellow'll  be  a  good  sort.  '* 


CHAPTER    XII. 

"STAND  by,  Don  ;  I'm  going  about." 

"All  right." 

"  Slack  off  the  jib  sheets.  Mind  your  heads,  you  two. 
What  a  duffer  you  are,  Nan.  Serve  you  right  if  you'd 
lost  your  hat ;  and  you  precious  nearly  did.  You 
ought  to  know  how  to  be  spry  when  we're  going  about. 
Look  out  now.  We're  going  to  have  it  choppy  a  bit. 
And  Guy,  who  was  steering  the  small  sailing  boat  be- 
longing to  the  Manor  House,  exchanged  a  look  with 
Donald  Ramsay  and  laughed.  "  Now  you  shall  see 
how  the  Flirt  can  slip  through  the  water,  Mrs.  Rudyer. 
Isn't  she  a  jolly  little  craft  ?" 

Guy  meant  mischief,  and  had  planned  with  Donald 
to  get  Mrs.  Rudyer  out  for  a  sail  in  the  boat  in  order 
to  "give  her  a  doing,"  as  he  expressed  it,  for  her  treat- 
ment of  him. 

After  Hugh  Dallas  had  been  to  the  Manor  House, 
Mrs.  Rudyer  had  rather  dropped  Guy,  and  the  latter 
had  resented  it  strongly.  He  had  been  proud  of  the 
way  in  which  he  had  scored  with  her,  and  when  she 
had  taken  to  snubbing  instead  of  petting  him,  he  had 
determined  to  pay  her  out. 

With  this  object  he  had  taken  Donald  into  his  confi- 
dence, and  the  two  lads,  knowing  the  little  woman's 
vanity  on  the  score  of  dress  and  personal  dignity,  had 

153 


154  trbe  Greatest  (Bift. 

resolved  to  get  her  out  in  the  Flirt,  and  then.  "  take  it 
out  "  of  her. 

It  was  necessary  to  take  Nan  partly  into  their  confi- 
dence at  the  last  moment  ;  but  they  only  admitted  to 
her  their  desire  to  see  whether  Mrs.  Rudyer  was  really 
the  good  sailor  she  declared  she  was. 

Choosing  a  morning  when  the  wind  seemed  likely 
to  freshen  with  the  tide,  they  induced  her  to  go  for  a 
sail,  and  then,  without  a  word,  ran  straight  out  to  sea 
for  eight  or  nine  miles  before  a  steady  and  rising  breeze. 

Mrs.  Rudyer  was  pleased,  and  laughed  and  chatted 
all  the  while.  She  had  dressed  herself  with  conspicuous 
care  in  a  very  becoming  sailor  costume,  with  a  trim 
little  hat,  beneath  which  her  golden  hair  glistened  in 
the  sun,  while  the  color  in  her  cheeks  made  her  look 
more  than  usually  pretty.  She  flirted  with  Guy  until 
Donald,  who  took  the  helm  while  they  were  running 
out  before  the  breeze,  laughed  and  Nan  grew  angry. 

As  the  shore  grew  indistinct,  however,  Mrs.  Rudyer 
began  to  feel  doubtful,  though  unwilling  to  show  her 
uneasiness;  and  the  boy's  "revenge"  commenced  as 
he  noted  the  anxious  looks  which  she  kept  casting 
astern. 

Guy  was,  or  pretended  to  be,  too  absorbed  in  her 
conversation  to  notice  the  distance  they  had  sailed, 
and  it  was  Don  who,  knowing  what  a  long  time  it 
would  take  to  beat  back  in  the  teeth  of  the  breeze 
that  was  blowing  off  the  shore,  suggested  that  they 
should  turn  back. 

"Dear  me,  Mrs.  Rudyer,"  Guy  had  said,  with  well- 
affected  surprise.  "Just  see  what  you  have  to  answer 
for.  You've  been  talking  to  the  skipper  till  he's  quite 


Ube  Greatest  Gift  155 

lost  his  reckoning.  I  should  think  we  must  go  about. 
By  Jove,  Don,  old  man,  why  didn't  you  wake  me  up 
before  ?  It'll  take  us  hours  to  fetch  the  moorings 
against  this  head  wind."  Then  he  looked  at  the  sky 
as  if  anxious.  "  Here,  let  me  take  the  tiller.  I'm 
afraid  we  shall  have  wet  jackets  before  we  get  back. 
I  hope  you're  not  afraid  of  a  drop  of  sea-water,  Mrs. 
Rudyer." 

"  No,"  she  answered,  but  not  very  readily  ;  "though 
I  didn't  think  when  we  started  that  it  would  be  rough. 
But  I've  nothing  on  that  can  be  spoilt. " 

Soon  after  that  they  put  the  boat  about,  and  on  the 
first  tack  for  the  shore,  the  great  difference  in  the 
amount  of  the  motion  made  Mrs.  Rudyer  uncomfort- 
able. 

It  was  not  rough,  and  there  was  not  a  particle  of 
danger ;  but  the  breeze  was  fresh,  and  the  Flirt  danced 
about  considerably. 

The  little  lady's  color  faded  gradually,  and  Guy,  like 
a  boy,  noticing  this,  began  to  talk  about  sea-sickness, 
and  tell  tales  of  the  many  people  who  had  been  very 
ill  on  various  trips  of  the  Flirt,  It  is  dispiriting,  not  to 
say  disgusting,  talk  when  one  is  comfortably  steady 
on  land  ;  but  when  you  are  not  quite  assured  of  your 
sea  qualities,  and  are  in  a  cockle-shell  of  a  boat,  that 
is  pitching  with  great  vigor  in  a  choppy  sea,  it  be- 
comes worse  than  nauseating. 

Mrs.  Rudyer  found  this  out,  and  soon  displayed  a 
very  strong  tendency  to  yawn,  while  her  cheeks 
paled. 

"  I'm  very  glad  you  say  you're  so  good  a  sailor,  Mrs. 
Rudyer,"  said  her  tormentor.  "  If  you  weren't,  three 


156  Ube  Greatest  <$fft 

or    four   hours    of  this    might    be    trying,"    and   his 
bronzed,  ruddy  face  broke  into  a  pleasant  smile. 

"Yes,  it's  fortunate,"  answered  the  victim.  "Three 
or  four  hours,  did  you  say,  we  shall  be  ?  " 

Her  eyes  looked  very  anxious  as  she  asked  this. 

"Not  more,  I  think.  With  any  luck  at  all,  we  ought 
to  fetch  the  moorings  in  that  time  ;  don't  you  think  so, 
Don  ? " 

"Yes,  I  fancy  we  might,"  and  Donald  grinned. 
"If  you're  in  a  hurry,  you  might  do  it  in  less,"  and  he 
glanced  at  Mrs.  Rudyer. 

"Could  we?"  she  began  eagerly,  but  checked  her- 
self, "  I  really  think  we  ought  to  be  as  quick  as  we 
can.  They'll  think  we  are  lost,  though  it  is  such  a 
beautiful  and  enjoyable  day." 

"Do  you  feel  ill,  Mrs.  Rudyer?"  asked  Nan  pres- 
ently. 

Nan  would  never  speak  to  her  by  her  Christian  name. 

"No,  not  at  all;  of  course  not,"  was  the  reply, 
spoken  with  enough  irritable  energy  to  bring  a  slight 
flush  to  her  face. 

But  it  was  not  the  truth,  for  at  that  very  moment 
she  had  been  thinking  how  pleasant  it  would  be  to  be 
allowed  to  lie  down  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  and  try 
to  sleep  away  the  time  that  had  to  pass  before  they 
would  reach  the  land. 

"How  silent  we've  all  grown,"  said  Mrs.  Rudyer, 
after  a  long  pause,  which  she  found  unendurable. 

Nan  did  not  want  to  speak,  Don  didn't  know  what 
to  say,  and  Guy  wouldn't  talk,  being  deliberately  de- 
termined that  his  victim  should  suffer  in  silence. 

He  knew  by  experience  the  bitterness  of  self-debate 


tn>e  Greatest  6fft.  157 

on  the  weighty  issue  of  to  be  or  not  to  be — ill  ;  and  he 
was  determined  to  punish  her. 

Seeing,  however,  that  his  victim  was  getting  rapidly 
worse,  he  called  to  Don,  and,  putting  the  boat  about, 
laid  her  on  the  other  tack,  where  she  was  steadier.  In 
this  way  he  gradually  reduced  Mrs.  Rudyer  to  a  con- 
dition of  abject  wretchedness,  which  even  her  inordi- 
nate desire  to  keep  up  appearances  was  not  strong 
enough  to  make  her  seek  to  disguise. 

Then  Guy  chose  a  moment  for  the  full  consumma- 
tion of  his  revenge  ;  for,  boylike,  the  sufferings  of  his 
victim  had  not  the  slightest  effect  upon  his  compassion 
or  pity.  He  watched  the  approach  of  a  large  wave, 
and  at  the  right  moment  he  sent  the  bow  of  the  Flirt 
right  into  it.  The  water  struck  the  boat  heavily,  rose 
in  a  little  column  of  spray,  and  came  hissing  right 
over  the  Flirt,  fore  and  aft,  wetting  everybody  on 
board  from  head  to  foot. 

The  boys  then  laughed  as  they  shook  off  the  water. 
But  it  was  too  much  for  Mrs.  Rudyer.  It  took  away 
for  the  moment  all  qualms  of  sea-sickness,  and  thus 
imbued  her  with  some  amount  of  her  natural  energy. 
She  stamped  her  foot  on  the  boards,  and  looked  very 
angrily  at  Guy  as  she  shook  off  the  water. 

"  You  horrid  boy  ;  you  did  it  on  purpose — you  know 
you  did.  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself.  I 
call  it  a  most  ungentlemanly  act."  And  the  vehe- 
mence of  her  reproaches  brought  the  tears  into  her  eyes. 

This  touched  Donald,  who  couldn't  bear  to  see  any- 
body cry,  and  whose  thirst  for  revenge,  moreover,  was 
only  second-hand,  and  the  result  of  sympathy. 

"  Stash  it,  Guy.     That  was  too  thick," 


158  Ube  (Sreat^st  (Bift, 

Guy  grinned  provokingly. 

' '  Fm  awfully  sorry,"  he  said  ;  "  but  I  thought  Mrs. 
Rudyer  was  much  too  good  a  sailor  to  be  afraid  of  a 
half  a  pint  of  wash.  Stand  by,  Don.  We'll  go  about 
again,  it  isn't  so  rough  on  the  other  tack.  We'll  keep 
on  that  till  we  get  under  shelter  of  the  land,  and  then 
creep  up  to  the  moorings  in  smooth  water,  and  hug 
the  shore.  That'll  suit  you  better,  won't  it  ? "  he 
asked,  turning  to  Mrs.  Rudyer.  "You  should  have 
told  me  you  couldn't  stand  even  this  amount  of  sea." 

There  was  a  suspicion  of  contempt  in  his  voice  and 
manner  ;  and  Nan  laughed  in  a  way  that  irritated  Mrs. 
Rudyer. 

"If  I'd  known  you  were  bringing  me  out  to  half- 
drown  me  and  then  laugh  at  me,  I  shouldn't  have 
come, "she  said  sharply. 

"It's  only  Guy's  fun,"  said  Nan. 

' 1 1  hate  clumsy,  practical  jokes — especially  by  boys. 
I'm  wet  through,"  she  retorted. 

"Sea- water  won't  hurt  you,  Mrs.  Rudyer,"  said 
Donald,  in  his  blunt  but  well-meant  way. 

"But  I  didn't  come  out  to  bathe,"  she  answered 
angrily. 

"  Well,  it's  done  one  good  thing,"  put  in  Guy.  "It 
stopped  you  from  being  sick.  You  were  looking 
awfully  white  about  the  gills  just  when  that  wave 
came  aboard." 

But  the  truth  of  this  made  the  sting  of  it  sharper,  and 
increased  her  anger,  though  she  said  no  more. 

Very  woe-begone  and  bedraggled  she  looked  when 
at  length  they  reached  the  moorings,  and  rowed  ashore 
in  the  dingy,  and  the  knowledge  of  this  added  to  her 


trbe  6reatest  <&ift  159 

vexation  enormously  when  they  found  the  captain  and 
Hugh  Dallas  waiting  for  them  on  the  beach. 

"  What  has  happened?  "  asked  the  captain. 

"We  shipped  a  rather  big  wave,  sir,"  answered 
Guy,  feeling  somewhat  guilty  at  this  unexpected  turn. 

"Who  had  the  tiller?  "  asked  Captain  Drury. 

"I  had,"  answered  Guy,  reddening  slightly. 

"  You  had  ?  Well,  I  should  have  thought  you  would 
know  how  to  keep  such  a  stiff  boat  as  the  Flirt  dry  on 
such  a  day.  I  am  very  sorry,  Mrs.  Rudyer." 

He  said  no  more  for  the  moment,  and  Mrs.  Rudyer 
was  too  busy  greeting  Hugh  Dallas,  and  too  much  en- 
grossed by  the  fear  that  she  was  cutting  a  very  sorry 
figure  in  his  eyes,  to  push  the  matter  further. 

As  they  all  moved  away  up  the  beach,  however,  the 
captain  drew  Guy  aside,  and  said  : 

"Did  you  do  this  on  purpose,  my  lad?  Because 
you  know  how  to  handle  a  boat  better  than  to  put  her 
nose  right  into  a  wave." 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  Guy,  coloring  as  he  spoke. 

"  Did  you  forget  that  Mrs.  Rudyer,  as  our  guest,  has 
a  right  to  be  protected  against  jokes  of  the  kind?  " 

"I  didn't  think  of  that,"  answered  Guy. 

"Thoughtfulness  is  essential  to  courtesy,  Guy,  and 
you  are  a  gentleman.  If  this  trick,  or  one  like  it,  had 
been  played  on  Margery  or  Nan,  would  you  have 
liked  it  ?  " 

"  No,  sir  ;  but  they  wouldn't  have  minded." 

"  What  difference  does  that  make  in  the  intention 
which  prompted  you  ?  But  you  are  wrong.  You  have 
tried  to  wound  the  feelings  of  a  guest,  and  that  guest 
a  woman,  with  thus  a  double  claim  on  your  protection. 


160  trbe  Greatest 

I  should  like  you  to  see  how  your  act  would  appear  in 
Mrs.  Rudyer's  eyes.  You  have  done  an  ungenerous 
and  a  discourteous  thing,  my  boy  ;  and  that  is  not 
like  you." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  uncle.  I  didn't  look  at  it  in  that 
way.  I'll  go  and  tell  her  so,  and  apologize,"  said  Guy 
impulsively. 

He  chanced  on  an  inopportune  moment  for  the  apo- 
logy. Mrs.  Rudyer  and  Hugh  were  walking  alone, 
Nan  having  dropped  back  to  Donald,  and  Mrs.  Rudyer 
did  not  at  all  appreciate  Guy's  interruption,  and  turned 
somewhat  impatiently  when  he  spoke  to  her. 

"I'm  not  friends  with  you,"  she  said  playfully,  not 
wishing  her  real  anger  against  Guy  to  be  seen  by  Hugh 
Dallas.  "You  are  a  naughty  boy,  and  I  don't  like 
you  ;  you  played  me  a  trick,  I  believe." 

"  It's  about  that  I  want  to  speak  to  you,"  said  Guy, 
and  then  the  others  came  up  to  them.  His  face  flushed 
as  he  continued,  "  I  want  to  ask  your  pardon  for  what 
I  did.  I  did  it  intentionally,  and  I  want  to  ask  your 
pardon.  I  steered  the  boat  deliberately  with  the  in- 
tention of  bringing  that  wave  on  board.  But  I  am 
sorry  I  did  it." 

' '  Well,  I  think  we  all  ought  to  be  angry  then,  for 
you  served  us  all  alike,"  said  Mrs.  Rudyer. 

"  Yes,  but  I  did  it  purposely  to  annoy  you  ;  just  as 
I  took  you  so  far  out  to  try  and  make  you  ill." 

He  spoke  quite  frankly  and  earnestly,  and  Hugh 
Dallas  felt  an  inclination  to  smile,  though  admiring 
his  candor. 

"But  you  didn't  make  me  ill,"  said  Mrs.  Rudyer, 
hiding  her  irritation  under  a  simper.  "But,  never 


trbe  Greatest  (Bift,  161 

mind,  I'll  forgive  you,  though  I  won't  promise  to  trust 
myself  in  a  boat  with  you  again,  mind,"  and  she 
laughed  and  shook  her  head. 

"Then  I  sha'n't  think  you've  accepted  my  apology,'' 
said  Guy.  "You  know  you've  been  out  lots  of  times 
with  me  alone  before,  and  nothing  of  the  kind  has  ever 
happened." 

"Very  well.  We  won't  say  anymore  about  it," 
said  Mrs.  Rudyer  quickly,  feeling  very  vexed  at  see- 
ing Dallas  turn  away,  and,  as  she  thought,  hide  a  laugh 
as  he  spoke  to  Nan.  "  And  as  for  the  future,  we'll  see 
about  it  when  the  chance  comes  ;  but  I've  had  enough 
of  the  sea  for  a  good  time  to  come." 

Then  the  captain  added  his  voice  on  behalf  of  Guy, 
and  they  walked  up  the  beach  together. 

On  the  path  at  the  top  Godfrey  and  Margery  met 
them,  and  the  incident  had  to  be  explained  to  them. 

"You'd  better  hurry  home,  Bee,  and  change  your 
things,"  said  Margery.  "There's  not  much  risk,  but 
you  mustn't  get  chilled." 

"I  wonder  you  couldn't  take  better  care  of  the  boat, 
Guy,"  said  Godfrey  disagreeably.  "You  talk  enough 
about  being  able  to  sail  the  Flirt.  This  doesn't  look 
much  like  it — landing  like  a  parcel  of  drowned  rats." 

"Doesn't  it  ?  "  flashed  back  Guy,  who  disliked  God- 
frey cordially  when  he  was  in  a  sneering  mood. 
"Well,  you  weren't  there,  so  it  doesn't  concern  you." 

"Oh,  yes,  it  does,  indirectly.  Margery  had  asked 
my  permission  to  go  with  you,  but  I  felt  that  she 
wouldn't  be  very  safe  under  the  circumstances,  so  I 
said  no.  I  was  right,  you  see.  If  you  half-drown 
people  in  this  way  it  won't  do." 
1 1 


162  Ube  Greatest  (Bift 

"Well,  I'll  sail  you  any  day  in  the  week,"  retorted 
Guy. 

"  I'm  not  talking  about  that.  I'm  talking  about  to- 
day, and  about  you  not  having  taken  proper  care  ; 
and  about  my  having  been  right  in  not  retting  Mar- 
gery go  with  you.  Come,  Margery,  let  us  go  on  for 
our  walk.  Come." 

On  hearing  the  irritable  and  masterful  manner  in 
which  he  had  spoken,  Hugh  Dallas  glanced  instinct- 
ively at  Nan,  and  saw  the  girl  flush  and  bite  her  lips. 
Then  she  turned  a  moment  and  looked  to  see  if  Dallas 
had  noticed  what  had  passed. 

Their  eyes  met,  and,  reading  each  other's  thoughts, 
they  both  looked  at  Margery. 

"Come  along,  Nan,"  broke  in  Mrs.  Rudyer.  "Let 
us  hurry  home  and  change,  and  don't  let  us  interrupt 
the  lovers  any  longer,"  and  she  laughed,  not  pleasantly, 
and  linking  her  arm  in  Nan's,  led  her  off  quickly  in 
the  direction  of  the  Manor  House  ;  while  Hugh  Dallas 
followed  leisurely  with  the  captain. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

OLD  John  Drury  developed  a  very  strong  regard  for 
Hugh  Dallas,  and  sought  every  means  of  increasing 
the  intimacy  between  them,  from  the  time  when  Alan 
Ramsay  first  took  his  friend  to  the  Manor  House. 

The  captain  had  lived  much  apart  from  other  men 
since  the  bereavement  which  had  so  changed  the  cur- 
rent of  his  life.  He  had  broken  with  old  friendships 
and  associations  and  cultivated  no  new  ones  to  take 
their  place.  Among  the  neighbors  he  had  few  acquaint- 
ances and  no  friends  among  those  of  his  own  years  ; 
and  it  was  only  when  Godfrey  and  the  others  had 
grown  out  of  their  teens  and  had  begun  to  draw  round 
them  a  few  friends  that  he  had  cared  to  throw  open 
the  Manor  House  for  much  hospitality.  He  had  never 
shaken  off  the  feeling,  with  him  almost  a  fear,  that 
something  might  happen  to  bring  his  secret  to  light,  if 
many  people  were  coming  and  going  to  the  Manor 
House,  and  that  in  this  way  Godfrey's  life  might  be 
made  clarekr  than  it  was. 

Such  a  man  as  Hugh  Dallas  had  not  thus  come  with- 
in the  orbit  of  his  life  for  many  years  ;  and  he  was 
welcome.  Dallas  appeared  in  the  captain's  eyes  as  a 
man  young  in  years  but  yet  with  the  judgment  and  quick 
perceptions  of  experience  ;  who  knew  the  world  and 
had  not  been  spoilt  by  it.  He  had  many  feelings  and 
sympathies  which  the  captain  shared,  while  the  latter 

163 


164  Ube  Greatest  Gift 

recognized  the  other's  straight-going  honesty  and  sin- 
cerity. His  qualities  of  mind  formed  thus  a  strong  at- 
traction for  old  John  Drury,  and  his  mere  superficial 
gifts  of  sociability,  good  humor,  tact,  and  comrade- 
ship, cemented  the  old  man's  good-will.  Moreover, 
his  age  and  his  past  history  made  it  improbable  if  not 
impossible  that  he  would  ever  guess  anything  of  the 
past.  Thus  Hugh  Dallas  seemed  in  a  measure  to  bring 
a  whiff  of  the  world  again  into  the  old  sailor's  life 
which  was  both  welcome  and  invigorating.  He  stayed 
for  more  than  one  week  end  at  the  Manor  House  ;  and 
the  captain  grew  to  speak  more  freely  to  him  on  many 
matters,  including  Godfrey,  than  to  any  one  else. 

"  Godfrey's  not  very  well,"  he  said  to  Dallas,  when 
the  others  had  left  them  on  the  day  of  Mrs.  Rudyer's 
experiences  in  the  Flirt. 

"No  ;  "  Dallas  knew  that  the  captain  was  trying  to 
cover  or  excuse  the  cripple's  roughness  of  speech. 

"  No ;  he's  not  what  I  could  wish  by  a  long  way. 
He's  always  a  little  irritable  when  he's  not  well.  Didn't 
you  notice  just  now  how  he  spoke  to  Guy  ?  " 

"  I  thought  he  was  glad  he  had  persuaded  Miss 
Allingham  not  to  go  out  in  the  Fliri" 

"Ye — es,"  answered  the  captain  thoughtfully.  "I 
suppose  it  was  persuasion.  But  he  is  apt  at  times  to 
be — what  shall  I  say — a  little  stronger  than  persuasive. 
Poor  lad,  he  means  well  I  know  ;  but  he's  not  always 
tactful.  I'm  afraid  I'm  to  blame  a  good  deal.  I've 
no  tact ;  and  then  I  haven't  taken  a  very  sharp  line 
with  him.  You  see — "  he  stopped,  and  looked  at  Dal- 
las as  if  wanting  to  be  relieved  from  explaining,  and 
yet  wishing  his  companion  to  understand  him. 


6reatest  0ift»  165 

"  Naturally,  you  could  not  deal  with  him  as  with 
other  lads,"  returned  Dallas.  "  But  I  think  it  is  a  pity 
he  cannot  more  fully  realize  the  great  possibilities 
which  lie  before  a  fellow  of  his  powers  of  mind,  al- 
together apart  from  other  considerations.  He  suggests 
to  me  that  kind  of  mistaken  helplessness  which  would 
paralyze  the  commander  of  a  steamship  whose  engines 
had  broken  down,  when  neither  he  nor  a  man  of  the 
crew  knew  how  to  set  a  single  sail." 

The  captain  smiled,  for  the  figure  pleased  him. 

"  Well,  he's  taking  a  pilot  on  board  that  can  teach 
him,"  he  answered.  "  Aye,  and  the  best  pilot  that  ever 
steered  a  ship  through  a  difficult  channel." 

"True,  most  certainly,"  said  Dallas.  "I  yield  to 
none  in  my  admiration  for  Miss  Allingham.  Indeed, 
if  your  son  knew  how  much  I  admire  her  he  might 
even  be  jealous." 

"  Ah,  I  thank  God  every  day  that  there  was  never  a 
thought  of  love  in  hjer  mind  for  another  man,"  said  the 
captain  simply.  "  I  have  many  things  to  be  thankful 
for — many  almost  infinite  blessings,  Mr.  Dallas ;  but 
there  is  none  of  them  which  I  prize  so  highly  as  the 
fact  that  Margery  could  give  herself  heart  whole  to  my 
boy.  It  might  well  have  been  otherwise.  Two  young 
people  who  have  lived  in  the  same  house  all  their  lives 
are  often  more  like  brother  and  sister  than  lovers.  And 
many  girls — not  that  dear  Madge  is  one  of  them,  bless 
her  ;  or  Nan  either,  I  believe — but  many  girls  look  less 
to  the  mind  than  the  body,  and  center  their  thoughts 
on  that.  No  one  knows  so  well  as  I,"  he  continued, 
after  a  pause,  "  what  disappointment  would  have  meant 
to  a  nature  such  as  Godfrey's.  He  would  have  been 


166  ^be  Greatest  Gift. 

like  that  steamer  you  spoke  of  just  now,  if  the  sails  had 
gone  by  the  board  when  the  engines  broke  down — a 
wreck,  soon  a  derelict." 

"  I  hope  they  will  be  happy,"  said  Dallas. 

The  captain  waited  before  he  replied,  and  when  he 
spoke,  it  was  with  a  slight  and  half-suppressed  sigh. 

"  I  hope  so.  Margery  should  make  any  man  happy  ; 
no  woman  could  take  with  her  a  more  beautiful  dowry 
of  blessings.  She  has  been  a  daughter  and  companion 
and  caretaker  and  everything  to  me,"  and  the  thought 
brought  a  smile  with  it. 

"  Do  you  think  it  has  put  the  touch  of  content  into 
his  life  that  it  needs  ?  "  asked  Dallas. 

"That's  a  shrewd  way  of  yours  to  put  your  ringer 
right  on  the  very  lever  that  controls  the  ship's  engines. 
How  can  I  tell?  How  can  any  one  tell?  Heaven 
grant  it  may  be  so  !  Certainly  it  ought  to.  But  God- 
frey is — well,  Godfrey.  He  thinks  the  marriage  is  all 
that  is  needed  to  make  him  perfectly  happy,  but  then  " 
— this  in  a  lower  and  ever  more  thoughtful  tone — "  he 
thought  a  few  weeks  back  that  that  happiness  would 
come  with  the  engagement  itself.  Now  he  is  as  anx- 
ious for  the  marriage  to  be  pressed  on  as  he  was  for  the 
engagement.  How  would  you  read  that  ?  You  are 
clever  at  seeing  these  things." 

There  was  a  sense  of  appeal  in  the  captain's  manner, 
as  if  he  wanted  to  be  strengthened  in  some  view  that 
he  had  formed,  and  it  touched  the  younger  man  closely. 

"  I  should  read  it  with  strong  hope  for  the  best,"  said 
Dallas,  embarrassed  by  his  fuller  knowledge  of  the 
circumstances,  and  feeling  compelled  to  evade  the  real 
point 


tTbe  Greatest  6fft  167 

"I  do,"  said  the  captain,  adding  earnestly,  "Heaven 
grant  that  I  may  not  be  wrong  !  The  marriage,  I 
think,  will  be  soon,"  and  as  he  said  this  they  reached 
the  Manor  House. 

The  same  subject  from  a  different  standpoint  had 
been  discussed  by  Godfrey  and  Margery  in  their  walk. 
The  relations  which  the  engagement  had  brought  about 
between  them  were  somewhat  singular.  Margery  felt 
that  her  promise  to  marry  Godfrey  for  the  reasons  that 
had  swayed  her  required  from  her  a  constant  sub- 
jection to  Godfrey's  wishes  and  moods.  Her  object 
was  his  happiness,  and  through  that  the  captain's ; 
and  thus  the  girl  went  much  farther  in  the  com- 
plete sacrifice  of  herself  and  her  wishes  than  would 
have  been  possible  in  any  other  circumstances.  She 
ceased  to  judge  of  what  she  ought  to  do,  and  how  she 
ought  to  be  treated  by  any  ordinary  tests,  and  thought 
only  of  what  was  likely  to  save  Godfrey  from  any  sort 
of  pain. 

With  such  a  nature  as  his,  this  necessitated  the  al- 
most complete  blotting  out  of  self.  Towards  this  she 
progressed  rapidly,  however,  and  thus  of  all  who  were 
present  when  the  Flirt  came  ashore  she  alone  thought 
nothing  of  Godfrey's  sharpness  of  manner.  She  was 
accustoming  herself  to  look  for  it. 

Yet  Godfrey  was  little  if  at  all  happier  after  the  en- 
gagement than  he  had  been  before  it,  when  once  the 
novelty  of  the  change  it  wrought  had  passed  off. 

"  I  wonder  my  father  allows  Guy  to  go  out  alone  in 
the  Flirt"  he  said  irritably.  "  He'll  drown  somebody 
some  day.  I  sha'n't  let  you  go  any  more." 

"  Guy  understands  how  to  manage  the  boat  very 


168  Ube  6reatest 

well,"  said  Margery.  "  I  have  heard  uncle  say  that  he 
could  handle  her  as  well  as  any  of  the  seamen  about 
here;  and  we  know  that  he's  been  out  in  her  in  all  sorts 
of  weather." 

"  It  isn't  the  first  time  the  pitcher  goes  to  the  well 
but  the  last  that  it  gets  broken.  You  belong  to  me 
now,  you  know,  and  I  sha'n't  let  you  run  any  risk." 
He  meant  this  affectionately. 

"I  am  very  fond  of  the  sea,"  returned  Margery. 

"Oh,  of  course,  if  you  like  to  do  those  things  that 
you  know  I  don't  wish  you  to,  I  can't  actually  lock 
you  up  and  prevent  you.  But  you  won't  go  with  any 
one  except  me — that  is,  if  you  want  to  please  me." 
Then  with  a  sudden  change,  "  Don't  think  me  a  brute 
for  saying  that.  It's  only  my  love  for  you,  Margery  ; 
and  I  can't  bear  to  think  that  even  our  tastes  and 
wishes  are  different.  I  want  you  to  be  in  perfect  har- 
mony with  me  even  in  thought.  I  suppose  you  can't 
understand  what  it  is  to  love  like  that :  to  fret,  and 
worry,  and  grieve  if  you  are  away  from  me,  or  doing 
that  which  is  not  what  I  would  have  chosen  for  you 
to  do,  to  feel  that  in  that  way  some  sort  of  barrier  is 
growing  up  between  us  ?  Ah,  love  like  mine  is  not  all 
pleasure  !  " 

The  girl  put  her  hand  in  his. 

"  I  will  try  to  do  all  that  you  wish,  Godfrey,"  she 
said. 

"Will  you?"  he  exclaimed,  stopping  and  looking 
up  into  her  eyes.  "  Will  you?  Kiss  me,  Madge." 

She  bent  down  and  kissed  him. 

"  You  know  one  thing  I  wish,  Madge.  Will  you  do 
that  ?  Will  you  let  our  marriage  be  as  soon  as  possible  ? 


Ube  Greatest  Offt.  169 

I  long  to  feel  that  you  will  be  mine,  that  nothing  can 
take  you  away  from  me,  nothing  come  between  us.  I 
want  to  have  you  all  my  own,  my  very  own.  I  want 
to  have  the  right  to  stand  between  you  and  all  the 
world  and  to  feel  that  you  belong  to  me,  and  that  no 
one  can  cast  even  a  shadow  between  us.  Will  you  do 
this  ? " 

He  spoke  with  passion. 

"  Who  is  there  to  come  between  us?"  asked  the  girl. 

Godfrey  cast  a  quick,  suspicious  look  at  her. 

"All  the  possibilities  of  the  world  till  we  stand  man 
and  wife  before  the  altar."  Then,  he  added  quickly, 
"  If  you  love  me,  you  will  do  as  I  ask." 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  will,  and  when  you  will,"  she 
answered,  in  a  somewhat  low  tone,  thinking  to  herself 
that  the  time  could  make  little  difference. 

Godfrey,  having  gained  his  way,  broke  out  into  many 
protestations  of  tenderness  and  love,  and  spoke  of  his 
perfect  happiness,  thanking  her  many  times  for  doing 
what  he  wished. 

In  this  way  the  decision  was  made,  and  the  day 
fixed ;  and  thus,  when  Alan  Ramsay  came  over  later 
in  the  afternoon,  the  first  news  he  heard  was  that  the 
marriage  was  to  take  place  within  a  month. 

The  news  was  disconcerting  to  others  besides  Alan 
Ramsay. 

"I  am  astonished,  Mr.  Dallas,"  said  Mrs.  Rudyer. 
"I  declare  I  can  hardly  believe  it.  I've  always  had 
an  idea  that  somehow  or  another  the  thing  would  be 
broken  off.  Poor  dear  Margery,  she's  awfully  good, 
but  I  can't  for  the  life  of  me  think  but  it's  wrong  of  her 
to  marry  such  a  comicality  as  poor  Mr.  Godfrey.  I 


170  ftbe  Greatest  Gift. 

never  shall  think  otherwise.  I  call  it  a  positive  sin. 
She  can't  love  him,  can  she  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  But  marriages  do  not  always  de- 
pend upon  .love." 

' '  Oh,  you  dreadful  man,  you're  always  harping  on 
the  past.  You  are  really  the  most  vindictive  man  I 
ever  knew/'  and  she  laughed  rather  boisterously,  and 
hit  him  playfully  with  her  fan. 

"  How  on  earth  can  I  ever  have  been  such  a  fool  as 
to  care  for  such  a  woman  as  this?"  was  his  inward 
comment  upon  her  action,  and  he  turned  from  her  with 
a  sigh  of  relief  and  thankfulness  that  they  were  as  they 
were. 

As  he  looked  across  the  room  where  they  were  all 
sitting,  his  eyes  fell  on  Nan,  whom  he  had  noticed  to 
be  full  of  kindly  and  sympathetic  acts  of  attention  to, 
both  Alan  and  Margery  during  the  evening.  The  sight 
of  her  was  pleasant  to  him,  especially  as  a  contrast  to 
Mrs.  Rudyer.  She  suggested  to  him  in  some  way  the 
cool  feeling  of  rested  calm  which  he  had  now  and  again 
experienced  when,  after  a  hard  day's  work  in  the  moil- 
ing town,  with  all  the  fretful  littleness  of  its  strifes,  and 
the  wearing  worry  of  its  interminable  struggle,  he  had 
gone  away  into  the  country  and  sought  peace  and 
rest  in  simply  gazing  on  some  landscape  scene  at  sun- 
set. " 

"  Am  I  getting  to  be  a  sentimental  ass  ?  "  he  asked 
himself,  with  a  smile,  "  or  am  I  so  thankful  at  what  I 
have  escaped  in  one  direction  that  anything  looks 
pleasant  by  contrast  ?  " 

"You  seem  to  have  a  pleasant  thought,  Mr.  Dallas," 
said  the  very  sweet,  refreshing  voice  of  Nan,  who  had 


Ube  Greatest  Gift  171 

approached  him  while  he  was  thus  preoccupied.  "Are 
you  smiling-  at  the  news  of  the  marriage  ?  " 

"No,  Miss  Nan,  I  was  only  laughing  at  the  one  per- 
son at  whom  I  may  laugh  with  absolute  impunity — 
myself." 

"  Surely  we  must  be  reduced  to  great  straits  for  a 
joke  before  it  comes  to  that,"  she  answered,  laughing 
roguishly. 

' '  I  am  glad  you  think  I  am  not  to  be  laughed  at 
easily,"  he  said. 

"I  did  not  say  that.  I  only  meant  that  before  one 
will  consent  to  laugh  at  oneself,  there  must  be  a  great 
dearth  of  humor  in  other  people.  To  regard  oneself, 
as  the  only  laughable  object  in  a  roomful  of  people 
takes  a  lot  of  moral  courage, "  retorted  Nan.  "But  I 
did  not  come  to  fence.  I  have  been  edging  my  way 
across  the  room  to  ask  you  what  you  think  of  the 
news."  She  lowered  her  voice  as  she  spoke,  and 
went  close  to  his  side,  speaking  very  confidentially. 

"I  have  already  offered  my  congratulations,"  he  said 
lightly. 

"  That  is  not  fair  to  speak  so  to  me,"  said  Nan  ; 
and  Dallas  saw  she  was  really  agitated.  "It  has 
frightened  me,"  she  said. 

"  How  frightened  you  ? " 

"Don't  pretend  you  don't  understand.  You  know 
that  I  and — and  Alan,  and — I  thought,  you  as  well, 
had  been  hoping  that  something  would  happen  to  pre- 
vent the  marriage.  And  now — "  She  stopped ;  and 
Dallas,  looking  down  at  her,  thought  he  could  detect 
signs  of  tears. 

"You  think  now  that  nothing  can  prevent  it?" 


172  Ube  Greatest  Gift* 

( '  Poor  Alan  !  "  was  all  her  reply. 

"  Do  you  think  that  anything  should  prevent  it  ?  " 
he  asked. 

She  looked  at  him  as  if  indignantly. 

"lam  not  sure,"  he  said,  answering  her  thought, 
"that  any  other  solution  of  the  tangle  is  possible,  when 
we  remember  all  whose  happiness  is  at  stake.  Your 
sister  would  not  wish  it." 

The  girl  at  his  side  made  a  gesture  of  impatience. 

"Alan  is  like  a  brother  to  me,"  she  said.  "  I  think 
of  him." 

"  He  is  also  like  a  brother  to  me,  and  I  think  of  him. 
So  that  you  and  I  are  like  brother  and  sister  in  this 
respect." 

"  I  suppose  that  is  why  I  have  spoken  so  freely  to  you 
all  through  this,  and  have  trusted  you  so.  You  would 
be  a  good  brother,"  she  added,  glancing  up  at  him. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Dallas  can  play  the  part  of  any  relation  to 
perfection,"  interposed  Mrs.  Rudyer,  who  had  ap- 
proached them  unawares,  and  had  overheard  the  last 
words.  "  As  a  brother,  I  agree  with  you,  Nan,  he 
would  be  delightful ;  and  it's  such  a  safe  relationship, 
and  so  convenient. "  She  laughed  somewhat  loudly  as 
she  finished,  while  Nan  went  crimson. 

"  Convenient,  for  instance,"  said  Dallas  calmly,  "  in 
being  able  to  correct  the  curious  mistakes  made  by 
those  who  overhear  snap-shots  of  conversation." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mrs.  Rudyer.  "I  understand. 
But  you  and  I  are  too  old  friends  to  misunderstand  one 
another,"  and  she  looked  at  him  with  an  expression 
which  puzzled  Nan,  who  saw  it  as  she  turned  away  to 
go  to  the  captain,  who  called  her. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

AFTER  his  conversation  with  Nan  on  the  evening 
when  the  date  of  Margery's  marriage  was  fixed,  Hugh 
Dallas,  spurred  by  the  feeling  which  the  girl  had 
shown,  had  a  long  talk  with  Alan  Ramsay  on  the  sub- 
ject. But  it  led  to  nothing. 

"  I  would  give  half  I  am  worth  to  stop  the  marriage 
— all,  if  I  did  not  think  Margery  and  I  would  want 
more  to  live  upon  than  I  could  ever  earn,"  said  Alan  ; 
"  but  I  shall  be  loyal  to  the  promise  I  gave  and  make 
no  attempt  to  interfere.  There's  no  way  out  of  it — 
no  way  that  Margery  would  consent  to  adopt.  You 
see  that." 

"I  can't  see  very  far  in  the  matter,"  answered 
Dallas.  "  But  certainly  it  seems  that  she  holds  her  duty 
to  the  captain  to  be  paramount ;  and  the  duty  means 
sacrificing  herself  and  you  for  the  happiness  of  him  and 
Godfrey.  There's  one  way  to  stop  it." 

"  What's  that  ?  "  and  the  eagerness  of  the  tone  showed 
Dallas  how  much  Alan  felt. 

"By  letting  the  captain  know  the  truth.  I  know 
what  the  effect  would  be  on  him." 

"  Likely  enough.  But  who  would  tell  him?  Would 
you  ?  I  wouldn't — if  for  no  other  reason  than  because 
Margery  would  hate  me  for  making  him  miserable. 
Nan  wouldn't.  Nobody  else  knows." 

173 


174  tTbe  (Breatest  Gift. 

"Somebody  else  guesses." 

"Eh?  oh,  you  mean  Margery's  chatty  little  friend, 
Mrs.  Rudyer,"  said  Alan,  laughing.  "Maybe,  but 
she's  not  exactly  the  kind  of  diplomatist  to  solve  this 
riddle.  By  Jove,  it's  awfully  rough  on  a  fellow  to  have 
had  a  fall  at  the  very  last  fence.  And  I  think  it's  worse 
to  know  of  a  means  which  ought  to  let  you  win,  and 
yet  not  be  able  to  use  it." 

"Shall  you  stay  for  the — till  it's  over?  "  asked  Dal- 
las, changing  his  phrase. 

"I  don't  know.  I  feel  sometimes  that  I  could  just 
go  and  hang  myself ;  and  then  the  next  minute  I'm 
full  of  praise  for  what  Margery's  doing.  And  if  I  suf- 
fer, great  Heaven,  what  must  she  feel  ?  That's  what 
makes  me  feel  what  a  whining,  cowardly  lout  I  am. 
But,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  never  thought  it  would  come  to 
this.  Like  an  innocent  man  convicted  for  murder,  I 
suppose  I've  gone  on  thinking  it  can't  be  true ;  and 
that  Margery  can't  be  punished  for  what  she  hasn't 
done.  And  yet  I'm  such  a  helpless  ass.  Here,  I  de- 
clare I'd  give  my  life  for  the  girl,  and  all  I  can  do  is 
whine  at  myself  for  a  coward.  I  hate  myself  when  I 
think  of  it." 

There  was,  however,  nothing  to  be  done ;  and 
Dallas  went  back  to  Middlingham  full  of  regret.  He 
was  unable  to  suggest  any  remedy,  although  Alan 
Ramsay's  expression  of  helplessness  had  appealed  to 
him  more  powerfully  than  anything  else  that  had  been 
said. 

Here  was  a  girl  bent  upon  a  sacrifice  of  her  own 
and  his  best  friend's  happiness  out  of  a  feeling  of  pure 
chivalry,  and  in  what  he  felt  to  be  the  perfectly  illusory 


6reatest  Gift.  175 

hope  of  making  two  other  people  happy — and  yet  his 
wits  could  find  no  way  through  the  problem. 

"I'm  sure  it  would  be  wiser  for  the  captain  to  know 
the  truth  ;  but,  then,  who's  to  tell  him  ?  Every  soul 
about  the  Manor  House  believes  it  would  break  his 
heart  by  disappointing  that  selfish  beggar  of  a  son. 
Yet  more  certainly  will  it  break  his  heart  if  he  ever 
learns  what  he  has  done  in  forcing  Margery  and  Alan 
apart,  while  that  fellow's  passion  will  burn  itself  out 
like  a  naphtha  sponge — and  then  nobody's  happiness 
will  be  gained.  But  if  I  were  to  hint  at  the  truth  he 
wouldn't  believe  me,  and  I'd  take  my  oath  that  Miss 
Margery  would  find  some  means  to  lull  his  suspicions 
to  sleep  again.  There's  no  cunning  so  keen  as  a 
woman's  when  love  is  the  motive,  and  doing  what  she 
believes  to  be  right  is  the  object." 

In  this  way  he  talked  with  himself  half-a-dozen  times 
a  day,  coming  to  no  conclusion,  except  that  things 
must  go  on,  and,  as  he  put  it,  Margery  must  just  burn 
on  the  suttee  pyre  she  was  determined  to  light. 

On  the  third  day  after  he  had  returned  from  Seacove 
a  surprise  awaited  him  at  his  office. 

Among  his  letters  was  one  unsigned,  addressed  to 
him  by  name  : 

Private  and  Confidential, 

Hugh  Dallas,  Esq. , 

Editor  of  the  Evening  News, 

Broadgate, 

Middlingham. 
The  letter  ran  as  follows  : 
"  HONORED  SIR, — This  is  an  appeal  to  you  as  a  pub- 


176  TTbe  Greatest  Gift 

lie  man  to  prevent  a  crime  being  committed  which  you 
know  of.  If  a  marriage  you  know  of  takes  place  at 
Seacove  which  has  just  been  fixed,  it  will  be  a  crime, 
and  you  ought  to  stop  it.  You'll  know  who  is  meant, 
and  you'll  be  responsible  if  you  don't  step  in  and  stop  it. 
"  If  you  want  a  sign  that  this  is  right  just  you  ask 
G.  D.  who  Esther  Southerst  is.  You'll  soon  see  I  am 
right.  This  is  not  to  be  put  in  your  paper,  but  it's  an 
appeal  to  you  as  a  public  man  who  knows  the  circum- 
stances to  do  your  duty  and  prevent  a  crime. — Yours 
truly,  "ONE  WHO  KNOWS." 

Dallas  read  the  letter  quickly  through  and  laid  it 
down  with  a  smile  ;  but  picked  it  up  again  almost 
directly,  and  read  it  again  more  thoughtfully. 
.  "That's  an  oddity;  wonder  if  it  means  anything. 
Won't  destroy  it,"  he  thought;  and  he  laid  it  by  on 
his  desk,  while  he  went  on  with  the  morning's  work. 

He  had  a  busy  task  of  it  to  get  through  the  work  in 
the  time.  'His  was  a  paper  of  many  editions,  the 
earliest  of  which  was  published  about  one  o'clock,  to 
get  away  to  towns  and  districts  at  a  considerable  dis- 
tance ;  and  he  thus  kept  both  his  shorthand  writer  and 
himself  going  at  full  pressure  during  the  hours  in 
which  the  work  had  to  be  done. 

By  mid-day  the  work  was  over,  and  his  first  slack 
moment  he  gave  to  the  letter.  He  read  it  a  third 
time. 

"Is  it  worth  doing  anything  with?"  he  asked  him- 
self; "or  is  it  only  a  hoax?  Writing  looks  disguised. 
Best  place  for  anonymous  letters  is  the  waste-paper 
basket  But  if  it  isn't  a.  hoax — and  the  marriage  at 


0reatest  Oltt  m 

Seacove  is  the  only  marriage  that  it  can  be — then  G. 
D.  means  Godfrey  Drury.  That's  as  plain  as  an  ink- 
pot. A  notice  to  correspondents  can  do  no  harm,  and 
it  might  draw  something.  Let's  see." 

He  drafted  one  rapidly. 

"'  One  who  knows'  (Blackeaton). — You  must  send 
some  further  particulars  if  you  want  anything  done." 

"That'll  doit.  Yet,  dash  it,  I'm  not  a  detective. 
Never  mind  ;  can't  do  any  harm,  and —  What  is  it  ?  " 

This  to  a  lad  who  came  in. 

"Private  telegram,  sir." 

"Well,  hang  it,  this  is  queer,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he 
read  the  telegram.  "By  Jove,  that  notice  shall  cer- 
tainly go  in  now,  on  spec/' 

He  took  the  notice  he  had  drafted,  and  carried  it 
himself  to  the  composing-room. 

"Get  this  notice  in,  Mr.  Adams,"  he  said  to  the 
overseer.  "It  is  very  particular." 

Then  he  stopped  and  made  a  few  inquiries  about 
certain  office  matters,  gave  some  directions  as  to  the 
paper,  and  returned  to  his  room,  pulled  out  the  tele- 
gram and  read  it  again. 

"To  Dallas,  Editor,  Evening  News,  Middlingham. 
Shall  arrive  Middlingham  three  this  afternoon  to  see 
you  about  important  private  communication  affecting 
you. — Godfrey  Drury,  Seacove." 

"  I  suppose  my  correspondent  has  given  him  a  shake 
up  as  well,"  was  his  immediate  conclusion,  with  one 
of  those  shrewd  guesses  he  so  often  made.  "  Must  be 
that.  No  other  communication  affecting  me  could 
possibly  bring  him  over  here  in  such  a  hurry.  How 
the  dickens  can  they  have  brought  me  into  it  ?  Ah, 


i?8  Ube  Greatest  Gift 

well,  I  shall  know  all  about  it  when  G.  D.,  as  they 
call  him,  gets  here." 

He  put  the  letter  and  telegram  into  his  pocket,  and 
forced  his  attention  upon  some  other  matters,  until 
he  went  away  to  dinner.  He  thought  over  it  all  again 
as  he  walked  to  his  rooms,  and  again  during  his  dinner, 
and  afterwards  when  he  went  for  a  short  walk  before 
he  returned  to  the  office. 

"  Crime  !  that's  Mr.  G.  D. — if  it  isn't  a  lie  ;  certainly 
can't  be  Miss  Margery.  Esther  Southerst — of  course 
there's  a  woman  in  it ;  equally,  of  course,  there's  a 
natural  deduction  one  might  draw  which  would  put 
G.  D.  and  Esther  Southerst  in  brackets.  But  surely 
that  fellow  can't — "  He  finished  the  thought  with  a 
smile.  "  Psh  !  can't  be.  It's  a  hoax.  But  whose? 
Has  that  most  amiable  little  mischief-maker  a  finger 
in  this  pie?  "  and  the  picture  of  Mrs.  Rudyer  rose  be- 
fore him.  "No,"  he  said,  after  a  minute,  with  a  shake 
of  the  head ;  "  she'd  have  tackled  either  Alan  or  the 
Captain.  It's  a  bit  of  a  puzzle.  Glad  I  put  that  notice 
in  ;  hope  it  will  draw  something." 

He  mused  about  it  in  this  way,  and  when  he  went 
to  the  office  he  gave  directions  that  when  Godfrey 
called  he  should  be  shown  in  at  once  to  him. 

A  few  minutes  after  three  Godfrey  arrived,  and  a 
glance  into  his  face  showed  Dallas  that  something  was 
very  much  amiss.  The  cripple  looked  pale  and  wor- 
ried, and  his  eyes  had  an  expression  of  suppressed  ex- 
citement or  anger,  while  his  features  were  haggard. 
He  greeted  Dallas  very  briefly,  and  yet  with  a  very 
friendly  manner. 

"I   had   your   wire,   of   course,"  said   Dallas,  not 


Ube  Greatest  (Mft  m 

appearing  to  observe  the  other's  perturbation  and 
excitement. 

"Yes,  I  wired  you  at  once.  I  didn't  want  to  miss 
you.  You  are  keen  enough  to  see  that  I  am  upset, 
and  that  the  matter  is  one  of  deep  importance.  Other- 
wise, I  shouldn't  have  wired.  I  hope  I  have  not  kept 
you  in." 

"My  dear  Mr.  Godfrey,  don't  say  a  word  of  that.  I 
have  had  too  much  kindness  at  the  Manor  House  for 
you  not  to  feel  at  perfect  liberty  to  let  me  be  of  use  to 
you,  if  I  can."  He  spoke  very  kindly.  "You  are 
right,"  he  added,  "I  can  see  that  something  has  upset 
you.  Do  you  wish  to  tell  me  about  it  ?  " 

"  First  I  must  ask  for  your  implicit  confidence." 

"It  is  yours — without  asking." 

"Then  I  shall  want  to  ask  you  one  or  two  painful 
questions,  and  should  like  you  to  answer  them,"  said 
Godfrey,  hesitating  a  little. 

"To  the  best  of  my  power  you  may  rely  on  me," 
answered  Dallas,  wondering  what  was  coming  next. 

"  I  have  had  this  letter  this  morning.  Will  you  read 
it  ? "  And  he  handed  Dallas  a  letter  enclosed  in  an 
envelope. 

In  a  moment  Dallas  recognized  the  handwriting  as 
being  identical  with  that  of  the  letter  in  his  pocket, 
and  the  post-mark  was  the  same — Blackeaton. 

He  was  now  thoroughly  on  his  guard,  however,  and 
as  Godfrey's  eyes  were  fixed  eagerly  upon  him,  watch- 
ing every  sign  or  movement  of  his  features,  he  did  not 
let  a  trace  of  his  thoughts  or  feelings  show.  He  sat 
turning  the  letter  over  once  or  twice  before  taking  it 
out  of  the  envelope,  as  if  examining  the  writing  and 


180  tTbe  (Breatest  ®itt 

post-mark,  but  in  reality  schooling-  himself  to  show  no 
surprise  whatever  at  what  the  contents  might  be. 

It  was  well  that  he  had  taken  this  precaution. 

The  letter  was  as  follows  : — 

"  HONORED  SIR. — It  is  right  that  you  should  know 
the  truth  even  though  it  may  be  painful  to  you.  You 
are  being  made  a  fool  of.  You  think  you  are  about  to 
marry  a  girl  who  loves  you.  You  are  a  fool  for  your 
pains.  She  loves  another  man,  and  Mr.  Dallas,  who 
lives  at  Middlingham,  and  has  been  on  visits  to  the  Ma- 
nor House,  can  tell  you  all  about  it  if  he  likes.  If  you 
want  to  know  why  Miss  A.  is  going  to  marry  you,  I 
can  tell  you — it's  out  of  pity  for  your  being  a  cripple. 
This  is  all  as  true  as  gospel. — Yours  truly, 

"A.  B.  C." 

Despite  his  resolve  not  to  be  surprised  at  anything 
he  might  read,  Dallas  could  scarcely  refrain  from  a 
start  of  astonishment  at  reading  his  own  name,  and 
seeing  the  part  assigned  to  him  by  the  writer. 

He  read  it  through  a  second  time — not  that  he  did 
not  quite  grasp  its  contents  on  the  first  reading,  but 
that  he  might  have  time  to  think  what  line  he  had 
better  take.  The  letter  put  him  in  a  very  tight  place 
indeed. 

"That  is  a  very  extraordinary  production,"  he  said, 
laying  down  the  letter,  "and  I  am  glad  you  have 
brought  it  straight  to  me.  We  in  newspaper  offices 
know  what  sort  of  value  to  attach  to  anonymous 
letters.  We  are  constantly  receiving  them."  He  said 
this  with  a  smile  and  in  an  easy  voice,  as  if  the  mattei 
were  only  of  the  most  trivial  importance. 


trbe  Greatest  fcift  1st 

"  Yes,  but  is  it  true?  "  burst  from  Godfrey,  his  voice 
hoarse  and  his  eyes  alight  with  excitement  and  emo- 
tion. 

"  I  rarely  notice  such  letters  in  any  way,  and  as  for 
allowing  such  a  thing  to  cause  me  even  a  moment's 
uneasiness,  I  should  not  dream  of  it." 

"That  may  be,"  replied  the  other  man,  speaking 
quickly  and  eagerly  ;  ' '  but  I  am  not  schooled  to  that 
pitch  of  indifference.  This  is  a  matter  of  life  and  death 
to  me.  I  declare  to  heaven  I  would  rather  die  than 
find  it  to  be  true.  You  are  a  friend,  Mr.  Dallas.  You 
know  something  of  what  this  must  be.  Tell  me,  for 
God's  sake  tell  me,  what  does  it  mean  ? " 

Godfrey  spoke  with  rising  vehemence  and  agitation, 
and  getting  up  from  his  chair  he  began  to  pace  quickly 
up  and  down  the  room. 

"It  means,"  said  Dallas,  "it  can  mean  only  one 
thing.  There  is  some  cowardly  wretch  who  has  some 
sort  of  low  spite  against  you  or  against  Miss  Ailing- 
ham,  and  chooses  this  mean  and  despicable  way  of 
trying  to  injure  your  happiness."  Replaced  his  hand 
on  the  letter  as  he  spoke. 

"  You  mean  that  there  is  no  truth  in  it — no  truth  so 
far  as  you  know?  "  said  Godfrey,  coming  to  him  and 
laying  his  hand  on  his  arm,  and  gazing  up  wistfully  and 
searchingly  into  his  face.  "For  God's  sake,  tell  me." 

"  Nay,  for  me  even  to  presume  to  answer  such  a 
slander  would  be  an  act  of  disloyalty  to  Miss  Ailing- 
ham,  which  you  yourself  would  be  the  first  to  recog- 
nize when  you  are  cool  enough  to  see  how  unworthy 
of  her  is  the  suspicion  which  underlies  such  a  ques- 
tion," answered  Dallas  diplomatically. 


188  tlbe  Greatest  6ift. 

The  cripple  stood  looking  eagerly  into  the  other's 
face  for  fully  half  a  minute  without  replying,  and 
Dallas  met  the  look  without  flinching. 

"  Are  you  telling  me  the  truth,  or  deceiving  me?  " 
The  words  seemed  to  force  themselves  out  despite  the 
effort  at  self-restraint. 

"Mr.  Drury ! "  exclaimed  Dallas,  raising  his  eye- 
brows slightly,  and  speaking  in  a  tone  of  surprised 
remonstrance. 

"Forgive  me,  forgive  me,"  cried  Godfrey,  re- 
commencing his  walk.  "  But  I  am  beside  myself. 
You  can't  imagine  what  this  means  to  me.  By 
Heavens,  it  drives  me  mad  to  think  of  it.  Will  you 
tell  me  that  all  this  is  a  lie — a  damnable,  slandering 
lie — meant  for  nothing  but  to  stretch  me  on  the  rack 
and  ruin  my  happiness  with  the  curse  of  doubt  ?  " 

"I  can  tell  you,"  answered  Dallas,  speaking  in  a 
very  earnest  tone,  "that  all  that  I  know  or  have  seen 
of  Miss  Allingham  has  filled  me  with  implicit  and 
unshakable  faith  in  her  singleness  of  purpose  and  ab- 
solute sincerity  and  truth.  I  have  never  in  my  life 
met  with  any  one  who  filled  me  with  a  more  complete 
sense  of  absolute  confidence.  Take  my  advice. 
School  yourself  to  look  at  this  slander  as  I  look  at  it — 
a  lie  to  which  some  coward  dare  not  put  his  name  for 
fear  of  that  punishment  he  would  deserve  and  receive. 
Nay  more.  Ask  yourself  of  your  own  knowledge  what 
sort  of  reception  a  slander  like  this  merits."  Then 
thinking  it  was  time  he  commenced  attacking  instead 
of  defending,  he  said  quietly  :  "There  are  t\vo  ways 
to  treat  things  of  this  kind" — with  a  contemptuous 
wave  of  the  hand  toward  the  letter.  "  One  is  to  take 


Ube  Greatest  Gift.  183 

no  notice  whatever ;  and  that  is  the  wisest  though  not 
always  the  most  easy.  The  other  is  to  go  straight  to 
headquarters." 

"I  have  come  straight  to  you,"  said  Godfrey. 

"Yes;  but  headquarters  here  would  mean  Miss 
Allingham  herself,"  answered  Dallas  deliberately. 

"  I  couldn't  do  that,"  cried  Godfrey,  shrinking  to- 
gether at  the  idea. 

At  that  moment  the  bell  of  the  telephone  in  the 
room  rang,  and  Dallas  excused  himself  and  went  to  the 
instrument. 

While  he  was  there,  waiting  during  a  gap  in  the  con- 
versation, a  thought  occurred  to  him. 

"If  the  writer  had  gone  so  near  the  truth  about 
Margery  being  in  love  with  Alan  Ramsay,  might  there 
not  be  some  foundation  for  the  other  suggestion  ?  "  he 
thought.  Then  the  sentence  in  the  letter  recurred  to 
his  mind,  "Ask  G.  D.  who  Esther  Southerst  is?" 

The  telephone  suggested  how  he  could  observe 
whether  the  mention  of  the  name  had  any  effect  upon 
his  visitor. 

He  waited  until  the  man  who  had  rung  him  up  had 
finished  the  conversation,  and  then  commenced  to  take 
down  an  imaginary  communication  from  some  one. 

"Excuse  me  one  minute,  Mr.  Godfrey,  will  you?" 
he  said,  turning  to  the  other;  "but  a  correspondent  is 
sending  me  a  piece  of  news  which  I  must  write  out." 
Then  turning  back  to  the  telephone,  he  called  :  "  Go 
on.  Are  you  there  ?  Hallo,  hallo  !  Are  you  there  ? 
Yes;  Evening  News.  Dallas.  Right.  Goon.  'This 
afternoon,  in  Smalley  Bridge.'  Yes."  ("We  always 
repeat  in  order  to  prevent  mistakes,  you  know,"  he 


184:  TTbe  Greatest  (Bift 

said,  in  an  aside  to  Godfrey,  turning  so  that  he  could 
watch  the  latter  closely.)  "Yes,  yes.  Goon.  'A 
bad  accident  occurred  in — '  Where  ?  What  place  ? 
Do  speak  plainly.  Don't  get  so  near  the  telephone. 
Where  ?  Porker  what  ?  Oh  !  Barker  Crescent.  '  A 
heavy  wagon' — do  go  on — 'upset.  A  what?  A 
tram  ?  A  tram  later — I  can't  hear  what  you  say — oh, 
a  perambulator  ;  in  charge  of  a  woman.  What's  that  ? 
Two  children  hurt — Ann  Padley — spell  it — oh,  one 
badly.  Woman's  name.  What?  S.  what?  Her? 
Her  what?  Spell  it.  Oh,  Esther  Southerst !  Esther 
Southerst !  Well,  why  can't  you  speak  plainly  ?  Oh  ! 
S.  S.  Hurst.  Is  that  all  ?  Well,  you  shouldn't  have 
bothered  me  with  it.  You'd  better  repeat  it  to  the 
sub-editor.  All  right.  Good-bye." 

There  was  no  need  for  more.  What  Dallas  had  seen 
when  he  mentioned  the  name  showed  him  clearly 
enough  that  the  writer  of  the  letter  had  made  no  mis- 
take. 

"  People  are  so  foolish,"  said  Dallas,  as  he  sat  down 
again.  ' '  They  think  that  one  has  nothing  to  do  but  take 
some  trumpery  paragraph  over  the  wires.  But  what 
is  the  matter?  Aren't  you  well,  Mr.  Godfrey?" 

He  might  well  ask,  for  the  other  man  was  leaning 
back  in  his  chair,  white  and  agitated. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"  I'M  rather  subject  to  these  moments  of — of  weak- 
ness," said  Godfrey  Drury,  smiling  very  faintly,  and 
making  a  great  effort  to  regain  self-possession.  "I 
have  been  very  much  upset,  very  much  by  this  mat- 
ter. " 

"I  can  see  that,  and  I  can  understand  it, "answered 
Dallas. 

But  the  other's  manner  was  completely  changed. 
All  the  fire  and  energy  seemed  to  have  exhausted  itself 
suddenly,  and  he  appeared  now  more  like  a  man  who 
was  much  more  depressed  and  dejected  than  angry. 
He  was  apologetic,  and  looked  abjectly  miserable. 

"  I  may  take  it  from  you,  then,  Mr.  Dallas,  may  I, 
that  so  far  as  you  know  all  this  is  untrue  ?  " 

"  I  have  already  spoken  as  strongly  as  I  could  speak," 
replied  Dallas.  "And  if  you  take  my  advice,  you  will 
put  the  whole  matter  out  of  your  thoughts." 

Godfrey  answered  this  with  a  look  which  showed 
hopelessness  of  his  doing  anything  of  the  kind. 

"  I  will  try,"  he  said,  and  then  rose  to  leave. 

"  You  are  not  going  ?  "  asked  Dallas.  "Won't  you 
come  up  to  my  rooms?" 

"My  train  goes  at  5.15,  and  it  is  now  more  than 
half-past  four." 

"My  rooms  are  near  the  station.  There  will  be 

185 


186  Ube  Greatest  6ift 

time  for  some  tea,  at  any  rate  ;  and  you  have  tasted  a 
long  time,  I  expect." 

"Yes,  I  shall  be  glad  of  something.  But  I  can  never 
eat  when  I  am  much  disturbed  in  mind." 

They  went  out  together,  and  Dallas  endeavored  to 
persuade  his  companion  to  stay  long  enough  to  take 
some  dinner  with  him  at  an  hotel  ;  but  Godfrey  pleaded 
that  the  others  did  not  know  of  his  absence,  and  that 
he  had  made  no  arrangements — in  short,  that  he  was 
anxious  to  hurry  back. 

During  the  short  interval  before  the  starting  of  the 
train,  Godfrey  was  very  silent.  He  answered  such 
questions  as  Dallas  put  to  him  in  monosyllables,  and 
seemed  unable  to  force  his  thoughts  to  keep  up  even 
a  semblance  of  interest  in  the  matters  spoken  of.  It 
was  evident  to  Dallas  that  he  was  brooding  over  one 
of  two  things,  either  the  thoughts  and  suspicions  which 
the  letter  had  caused,  or  the  associations  which  the  un- 
expected mention  of  the  name  of  Esther  Southerst  had 
aroused. 

"Probably  a  little  of  both,"  was  Dallas's  comment. 
"Wish  I'd  spared  the  poor  beggar  the  mention  of  the 
name.  That's  the  worst  of  not  knowing  the  strength 
of  a  charge  before  you  fire  the  gun." 

To  Godfrey  he  spoke  very  kindly  and  earnestly  be- 
fore they  left  the  house  to  go  to  the  station. 

"I  am  glad  you  came  to  me,  Mr.  Drury  ;  I  wish 
very  much  that  you  should  look  on  me  as  a  friend  in 
all  this.  If  I  can  help  you  in  any  way,  by  talking 
things  over,  in  itself  a  great  relief  at  times  ;  by  trying 
to  form  an  opinion  as  adviser  ;  by  making  any  kind 
of  inquiries  for  you  ;  by  doing  anything  in  my  power, 


Ube  Greatest  <3fft.  187 

I  hope  you  will  let  me.  Newspaper  men  are  sup- 
posed to  be  level-headed,  you  know,  and  sometimes 
we  have  a  knack  of  hitting  on  things  that  people  who 
move  more  in  grooves  might  miss.  A  confidential 
friend,  even  if  not  a  very  wise  one,  is  sometimes  use- 
ful and  sometimes  even  comforting.  And  it  is  clear 
there  is  some  one  who  has  some  sort  of  a  grudge 
against  you." 

Godfrey  sat  for  a  minute  in  silence. 

"  Will  you  come  to  the  Manor  House  on  Saturday  ?  " 
he  asked.  "  My  dear  father  is  always  glad  to  welcome 
you,  and  perhaps  by  that  time  I  may  have  thought 
over  this  thing." 

Dallas  agreed  to  go,  and  then  walked  with  him  to 
the  station  and  saw  him  off. 

"  It's  a  curious  business,  and  I'm  not  sure  that  my 
part  isn't  the  most  curious  of  all.  Here  am  I  asking 
the  fellow  to  trust  to  me  to  help  him  to  get  rid  of  doubts 
which  stand  between  him  and  his  marriage  to  a  girl 
whom  I  would  ten  thousand  times  rather  see  married 
to  old  Alan.  Yet  I  was  absolutely  sincere  in  my  offer. 
How  was  that  ?  "  then  after  a  pause  of  introspection, 
he  added,  "I  suppose  it's  because  I  believe  that  the 
truth  will  mean  the  parting  and  not  the  marrying  of 
these  two.  But  I  don't  see  it  yet." 

There  was  no  response  to  the  notice  in  the  paper 
during  the  rest  of  the  week,  and  it  was  thus  uncertain 
whether  it  had  been  seen  by  the  correspondent. 

Reflection  strengthened  Dallas's  opinion  that  there 
was  a  good  deal  in  the  background  which  might  very 
materially  affect  the  position  of  matters  at  Seacove. 
During  the  week  he  had  to  consider  what  line  he  should 


188  Ube  Greatest  Gift 

take  in  regard  to  the  very  peculiar  position  in  which 
he  stood  to  the  various  parties  ;  and  at  first  it  caused 
him  no  little  amused  perplexity. 

He  resolved  in  the  result  that  he  would  say  nothing 
to  any  one  of  the  anonymous  letter  which  had  been 
addressed  to  himself.  If  he  told  Alan  it  would  only 
create  some  confusion  ;  while  if  he  gave  a  hint  to  Mar- 
gery through  Nan  he  thought  it  might  only  increase 
her  embarrassment.  He  had  been  trusted,  as  it  were, 
with  the  confidence  of  all  three  sides,  and  he  could  best 
observe  the  confidence,  he  argued,  by  maintaining 
silence  until  anything  should  happen  which  might 
make  it  necessary  to  speak. 

More  than  once  he  had  tried  to  think  out  some  solu- 
tion of  the  riddle  about  Esther  Southerst.  Who  she 
was,  what  was  her  connection  with  the  Manor  House, 
why  Godfrey  should  have  been  so  moved  by  the  mere 
mention  of  her  name — these  and  other  questions  clus- 
tered round  the  subject.  But  obviously  he  could  do 
nothing  but  guess,  in  the  absence  of  any  further  infor- 
mation, and  thus  he  tried  to  put  the  matter  aside  until 
he  could  find  out  the  facts. 

For  this  reason,  among  others,  he  was  glad  to  go  to 
the  Manor  House.  Nan,  he  thought,  would  be  able  to 
tell  him  how  matters  were  shaping ;  and  he  reflected 
that  it  was  very  fortunate  that  he  had  an  ally,  and  such 
an  ally,  in  the  house. 

He  walked  from  the  station,  leaving  his  bag  to  be 
sent  after  him,  and  taking  the  privilege  of  a  friend  of 
the  house,  he  crossed  the  park  and  entered  the  grounds 
by  a  private  gate.  As  soon  as  he  had  passed  through 
a  part  of  the  shrubbery  and  crossed  the  rosery  he  came 


Ube  Greatest  (Sift,  189 

in  sight  of  the  gabled  end  of  the  house — a  view  that 
was  exceedingly  beautiful — and  he  looked  about  him. 
Then  he  stopped,  but  not  to  admire  the  old  house  nor 
the  ivy-clustered  gable  end. 

In  a  hammock,  which  was  swung  between  two  forked 
branches  of  a  large  lower  bough  of  the  huge  cedar  tree 
which  stood  in  the  center  of  the  biggest  lawn,  lay  Nan. 
She  was  dressed  in  a  creamy  white  gown,  relieved  with 
one  or  two  pale  blue  ribbons,  which  fluttered  idly  in 
the  soft,  warm  summer  breeze. 

Dallas  was  quite  surprised  to  find  what  a  pretty  pic- 
ture she  made.  The  white,  graceful  figure  in  the  shade 
was  brought  into  contrast  with  the  deep  dark  green  of 
the  old  cedar  foliage,  while  a  glint  of  sunlight  straying 
now  and  again  through  the  heavy  limbed  old  tree 
printed  little  spots  of  gold  on  the  white  dress,  or  the 
dark  hair,  or  the  comely  chiseled  features. 

"It's  a  good  thing  for  my  peace  of  mind  that  I'm 
just  on  thirty,  and  old  enough  and  soured  enough  to 
take  a  brotherly  interest  in  her.  She  is  pretty;  I'm 
astonished.  I  hope  she'll  get  a — she'll  be  lucky,  I  mean. 
I'm  glad  there  isn't  another  unfortunate  Godfrey  to  step 
in  and  demand  her  young  life  as  well  as  her  sister's.  If 
I — but  what's  the  good  of  fooling  in  this  way  ?  She's 
just  a  nice  little  body,  and  if  she  marries  well  and  set- 
tles down  anywhere  within  reach  she'll —  Hugh, 
you're  a  fool." 

At  that  moment  one  of  the  little  sunrays  got  between 
Nan  and  her  book,  and  flashed  into  her  dark  eyes, 
making  her  start  and  look  up. 

She  saw  Dallas  standing  and  looking  at  her,  and  her 
cheeks  flushed  crimson.  She  got  out  of  the  hammock 


190  Ube  Greatest  Gift. 

as  only  graceful  girls  can  get  out,  and  went  to  him, 
her  eyes  shining  with  pleasure. 

"  Have  you  been  watching  me  long?  I  knew  you 
were  coming — Godfrey  said  so — and  I  was  so  pleased. 
I  am  so  glad  to  see  you." 

"It  is  very  pleasant  to  me  to  be  welcomed  like 
this,"  he  said,  smiling  as  they  shook  hands.  "You 
can  hardly  understand  what  a  keen  edge  of  pleasure  it 
puts  on  life  to  come  to  such  a  house." 

"It's  a  gloomy  enough  house  now,"  answered  the 
girl,  "and  I  hope  you  will  brighten  us  all  up  a  little. 
We  need  it.  But  are  you  not  going  to  stay  ?  "  she 
asked,  looking  for  his  luggage. 

"Until  Monday  morning,  I  hope.  I  left  my  bag 
to  be  brought  up  from  the  station." 

"Good,"  said  Nan,  with  such  emphasis  that  Dallas 
could  not  but  be  pleased. 

"She  is  very  courteous,"  he  thought.  And  what 
has  made  you  all  gloomy?"  he  asked. 

"That's  just  what  I'm  dying  to  ask  you,"  she  said. 
"You  know  we  are  fellow  conspirators  and  allies.  I 
want  to  ask  you  what  happened  on  Wednesday  ?  God- 
frey was  awfully  upset  at  breakfast — I  thought  he  was 
going  to  have  a  fit.  He  was  in  a  great  rage,  and  looked 
daggers  at  every  one.  Then  he  went  off  on  some  mys- 
terious journey — I  suppose  to  you  at  Middlingham, 
because  after  he  came  back  he  said  you  were  coming 
over  to-day.  And  he  has  been  so  awfully  depressed 
and  miserable  ever  since  that  poor  Madge  has  been 
wretched.  And  now,  please,  what  is  it  ?  I  have  been 
dying  to  ask  that  question." 

"That  is  why  you  were  so  glad  for  me  to  come  ?" 


tTbe  Greatest  <Mft  191 

asked  Dallas,  feeling  a  little  disappointed — though 
quite  unreasonably  as  he  told  himself. 

The  girl  shot  a  glance  at  him  which  was  quite  grave 
and  reproachful  ;  but  brightened  immediately  as  she 
smiled  and  replied  : 

"  Is  not  that  enough?  "  and  she  blushed  a  little  as 
their  eyes  met. 

"  But  what  if  I  have  no  answer  to  give  to  your  ques- 
tion ?  "  he  said. 

"Ah,  but  you  have.  I  could  read  plainly  enough 
that  Godfrey  had  seen  you.  Besides,  I  can  see  you 
are  keeping  watch  over  something  now  which  you 
could  tell  if ,  you  would.  You  mustn't  have  secrets 
from  your  ally.  Remember  your  words." 

"You  are  right,  Mr.  Drury  did  come  to  me,"  said 
Dallas. 

"Well?"  and  she  looked  inquiringly  into  his  face. 

"And  he  saw  me  at  Middlingham." 

"  Yes  ?  "  still  looking  at  him. 

"And  we  had  a  conversation.'' 

"Which  you  don't  think  you  ought  to  tell  me," 
finished  Nan  very  quietly.  "All  right.  Then  we  are 
not  to  be  allies  ?  " 

"As  firm  as  ever,  I  hope.  But  Mr.  Drury  came  to 
speak  about  a  matter  in  confidence,  and  I  think  that 
even  my  ally  will  see  that  I  am  bound  to  respect  that 
confidence." 

"  Your  ally  doesn't  like  it ;  but  she  sees  no  way  out 
of  it.  Can't  you  give  me  just  a  tiny,  little,  weeny  bit 
of  a  hint  ?  I  know  it's  serious,  because  Godfrey  has 
carried  that  fact  in  his  face  ever  since.  And  I  know 
that  it  has  something  to  do  with  Margery,  because  his 


192  tTbe  Greatest 

manner  has  been  so  extraordinary  with  her — some- 
times almost  violent,  sometimes  as  if  he  couldn't  mnke 
enough  of  her.  You  see  I  tell  you  all  /know." 

"  I  have  told  you  exactly  ho\v  it  stands  with  me," 
he  replied. 

"  But  I  can't  understand  what  it  has  to  do  with  you," 
said  Nan,  her  forehead  puckering  in  perplexity.  "  I've 
been  thinking  about  that  ever  since.  I  suppose  you 
can't  tell  me  that,  either,  can  you  ?  ''  she  asked,  look- 
ing at  him.  Then  quickly,  before  he  had  time  to  re- 
ply, "  No,  no,  don't  say  it.  I  can  see  you're  only 
going  to  say  no.  I  suppose  you  can't  help  it ;  but  I 
don't  think  it's  a  bit  nice  of  you." 

"Not  quarreling,  I  hope.  That  would  be  so  very 
sad,"  said  the  sweet,  soft  tones  of  Mrs.  Rudyer,  who 
had  come  up  unobserved  to  where  they  were  standing 
in  the  shade  of  the  large  cedar  tree.  "  You  two  are 
always  such  good  friends  that  really  it  would  be  dis- 
tressing for  you  to  fall  out. " 

"No,  we're  not  quarreling,"  answered  Nan  shortly, 
while  Mrs.  Rudyer  and  Hugh  Dallas  shook  hands. 

"  I'm  delighted  at  that.  I  quite  thought  dear  Nan 
was  scolding  you  ;  and.  I  positively  wondered  what  it 
could  possibly  be  about,  till  I  thought  she  must  have 
been  taking  you  to  task  for  coming  into  the  grounds 
by  a  back  path  and  interrupting  her  when  she  was 
quite  alone,  and  keeping  her  from  letting  us  know  that 
you  had  arrived.  Was  that  what  you  were  saying  was 
not  a  bit  nice  of  him?  You  must  look  out  for  him, 
Nan.  He's  a  man  to  beware  of,  I  can  tell  you  ;  and 
I  know  him.'' 

"Indeed,"  answered  Nan  calmly.      "  I  certainly  was 


Ube  Greatest  6ift  193 

not  taking  Mr.  Dallas  to  task,  as  you  call  it,  at  all. 
I'm  confident  that  uncle  would  be  glad  to  see  him  even 
if  he  came  in  a  balloon  and  chose  to  slide  down  the 
chimney." 

"Oh,  Nan,  Nan,  you  are  a  dreadful  girl.  What 
would  poor  young  Momerie  say  ?  " 

Nan  flushed  either  with  anger  or  confusion  ;  and 
her  eyes  looked  dangerous  for  a  moment. 

"I  will  tell  uncle  that  you  have  come,  Mr.  Dallas," 
said  Nan,  turning  away  to  the  house. 

"  But  don't  say  he  has  been  here  half  an  hour,  dear, 
or  the  captain  might  not  be  pleased  at  your  having 
monopolized  him — you  know  how  he  likes  to  wel- 
come Mr.  Dallas." 

Nan  took  no  notice  of  this,  but  walked  on  to  the 
house,  and  Hugh,  feeling  very  angry  with  Mrs.  Rud- 
yer,  was  going  to  follow,  when  the  latter  stopped  him 
by  saying  : 

"  Why  do  you  flirt  with  that  girl  in  such  a  barefaced 
manner?  If  you  have  no  thought  of  what  others  may 
say,  at  least  I  think  you  might  wait  until  I  have  left 
the  place." 

Hugh  looked  at  her,  masking  his  astonishment  and 
irritation  under  an  amused  and  somewhat  cynical 
smile. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  ?     I  don't  understand  you." 

"  Nonsense.  You  understand  me  perfectly ;  and 
you  needn't  stand  staring  at  me  with  that  stage-struck 
smile.  You  know  perfectly  well  that  I  am  only  stay- 
ing in  this  place  so  that  I  may  see  you  occasionally, 
and  the  least  you  might  do  is  to  avoid  flirting  right  be- 
fore my  eyes,  even  if  it  is  only  done  to  pique  and  annoy 


194  Ube  Greatest  Oift 

me.  You  know  it  must  make  me  angry.  Please, 
promise  me  not  to  do  it,  Hugh,"  she  said  in  a  coaxing 
tone,  raising  her  eyes  with  a  beseeching  gesture  to  his 
face,  and  putting  out  her  hand  and  touching  his  arm. 
"  It  makes  me  so  miserable." 

"  You  must  not  call  me  by  my  Christian  name.  I 
do  not  wish  it,"  he  said. 

"But  you  are  always  Hugh  in  my  thoughts,"  she 
said  softly.  "  Won't  you  promise  me  not  to  flirt  in 
this  way  with  Nan  ?  " 

"Knowingly  I  have  never  flirted  in  my  life,"  he 
said  somewhat  sternly,  as  the  suggestion  both  pained 
and  annoyed  him. 

"That  makes  it  all  the  more  striking  now,"  she  re- 
plied readily. 

The  man  laughed. 

"This  is  too  ridiculous,"  he  said.  "Though  whether 
to  laugh  you  out  of  your  present  absurd  mood,  or  to 
fly  into  a  passion  with  you,  I  don't  know.  It  seems 
too  absurd  to  get  angry,  but  really  it  would  make  it 
more  easy  to  explain  matters.  I  don't  want  to  say 
anything  that  seems  harsh ;  but  you  must  please  re- 
member that  you  are  Mrs.  Rudyer,  and  that  the  circle 
of  the  life  which  you  deliberately  chose  five  years  ago 
revolves  where  the  smaller  circle  of  mine  can  never 
overlap  it.  The  choice  you  made  then  was  made  for 
life — and  is  irrevocable." 

"  You  loved  me  then,"  she  said  slowly.  She  had 
turned  very  white,  and  was  trembling. 

"The  past  is  past,  absolutely,"  he  said  firmly. 

She  glanced  up  and  caught  his  eyes  bent  upon  her 
with  a  look  so  decisive  and  cold  that  she  shivered. 


TTbe  Greatest  Gift.  195 

"Don't  look  like  that  at  me,"  she  cried  eagerly,  put- 
ting' both  her  hands  on  his  arm,  and  gazing  into  his 
face.  "  I  can't  tell  you  all  I  think  sometimes;  but, 
Hugh,  for  the  love  of  Heaven  try  not  to  think  so  hardly 
of  me,  for  the  sake  of  old  times.  I  can't  tell  you  what 
I  feel — of  course  I  can't" — she  was  growing  hysterical, 
"but  I  swear  to  you  I  have  repented." 

"Mrs.  Rudyer,"  cried  Hugh,  drawing  back. 

She  moved  her  hands  once  or  twice  aimlessly  in 
front  of  her,  and  then,  covering  her  face  with  them, 
sank  down,  sobbing  hysterically,  on  a  garden  chair. 

Hugh  was  touched  at  the  sight  of  her  distress,  but 
all  his  feelings  melted  into  irritation,  not  unmixed  with 
confusion,  when  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  Nan's  white 
dress  turning  away  from  one  of  the  upper  windows  of 
the  house,  and  directly  afterwards  saw  a  short,  elderly, 
stout  man  standing  by  the  side  of  the  house  and  staring 
at  him  and  the  weeping  woman  beside  him  with  as- 
tonishment and  wonder  on  his  florid  face.  Dallas 
guessed  intuitively  that  it  was  Mr.  Rudyer,  and  the 
thought  added  much  to  his  annoyance. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

BEFORE  Hugh  Dallas  had  recovered  from  the  feeling 
of  irritation  at  the  false  position  into  which  Mrs.  Rud- 
yer's  inconvenient  and  ill-timed  impulse  had  placed 
him,  Captain  Drury  had  joined  that  lady's  husband, 
and  came  hurrying  forward  to  meet  and  welcome  the 
visitor. 

An  introduction  of  the  two  men  to  one  another  fol- 
lowed, and  Dallas  was  conscious  that  Mr.  Rudyer 
scanned  him  very  closely  and  curiously,  and  spoke  a 
little  stiffly.  But  the  incident  passed  away  as  Godfrey 
came  out  from  the  house,  followed  soon  after  by  Mar- 
gery, and  then  Mrs.  Rudyer  took  an  opportunity  of 
slipping  away. 

He  was  not  long  before  he  detected  symptoms  of  the 
gloom  of  which  Nan  had  spoken,  and  he  was  concerned 
to  see  on  the  faces  of  the  captain  and  Margery  signs 
of  real  trouble. 

Godfrey,  contrary  to  his  usual  habit,  kept  close  to 
Dallas's  side  while  they  were  all  standing  together, 
and  at  the  earliest  moment  tried  to  get  him  away  to 
speak  to  him  privately. 

"  I  have  thought  over  everything  that  you  said  to 

me,  Mr.  Dallas,"  he  said,  "  and  I  really  think  you  are 

right.     I  have  been  trying  to  put  the  whole  matter 

away  from  me,  and  not  to  think  about  it  at  all     But 

196 


Greatest  Gift  197 

perhaps  you  can  hardly  tell  what  a  struggle  it  means 
for  me.  I  am  not  like  other  men,  I  fancy." 

He  said  this  very  sadly,  and  Dallas  had  never  heard 
such  an  expression  from  him  before. 

"It  is  your  wisest  and  your  only  course,  under  the 
circumstances,"  he  replied.  "But  why  should  you 
think  you  are  not  like  other  men  ?  Do  you  suppose 
that  other  men  would  not  be  affected  by  such  a  disa- 
greeable incident  as  this?  " 

"They  would  be  affected,  perhaps,  but — well,  not  as 
it  affects  me." 

"Pardon  me,  if  I  say  that  I  think  I  know  what  you. 
mean,"  said  Dallas  kindly  ;  "but  I  think  you  are  quite 
wrong.  We  are  all  alike  when  our  heart  is  scarred,  or 
even  menaced  with  the  iron.  You  may  perhaps  have  a 
capacity  for  deeper  feeling,  and  thus  have  more  pain, 
but  even  that  I  question." 

Godfrey's  face  had  flushed  at  the  other's  words,  and 
he  did  not  reply  immediately. 

"Well,  I  am  trying  to  follow  your  advice,"  he  said. 
"  You  have  not  told  any  one  of  this  ?  They  know,  of 
course,  that  I  was  with  you  on  Wednesday." 

"Certainly,  I  have  told  no  one." 

"Do  you  think  I  should  take  any  steps  to  trace  the 
writer  of  the  letter  ?  " 

"  Have  you  any  idea  from  whom  it  can  have  come  ?  " 

"No.  No  definite  idea.  Of  course,  one  can  have 
suspicions." 

"What  could  you  do  by  making  inquiries,  except  to 
prolong  your  sense  of  disquiet?  " 

"That  is  just  what  I  have  asked  myself,"  replied 
Godfrey. 


198  Ube  Greatest  etft. 

"You  know  of  no  one  who  has  a  grudge  against. 
you  of  any  kind  ?  "  asked  Dallas. 

"  We  are  not  a  family  to  generate  such  feelings,"  re- 
plied Godfrey,  after  a  moment's  hesitation. 

"Exactly,"  said  Dallas,  noticing  the  evasion  and  the 
hesitancy.  "Then  I  should  rub  the  whole  matter  off 
the  slate."  And  with  that  they  went  into  the  house. 

In  the  drawing-room,  just  before  dinner,  Margery 
found  an  opportunity  of  speaking  to  Dallas. 

"Godfrey  has  been  to  see  you,  Mr.  Dallas  !"  she 
began. 

"Yes;  he  came  on  Wednesday.  He  had  never  seen 
the  inside  of  a  newspaper  office  before,  I  think." 

"Nan  tells  me  the  business  he  came  on  was  pri- 
vate," said  the  girl,  looking  at  him  out  of  her  calm 
gray  eyes.  "Does  that  mean  that  it  is  private  from 
me  ? " 

"He  came  to  talk  a  matter  over  with  me,  and  I 
promised  that,  so  far  as  I  was  concerned,  I  would  not 
mention  it  to  any  one.  You  know  that  editors  are  sup- 
posed to  be  entrusted  with  matters  which  touch  even 
the  welfare  of  empires." 

"Yes,"  said  the  girl  pleasantly,  "you  are  very  clever 
at  starting  false  trails.  But  was  it  anything  that  con- 
cerned us,  or  any  of  us  here  at  the  Manor  House  ;  or 
was  it  merely  an  ordinary  matter  of  business  ?  " 

"Would  it  surprise  you  very  much  to  hear  that  he 
had  been  over  to  get  a  few  wrinkles  about  how  to  get 
into  print?  " 

Margery  looked  gravely  and  earnestly  at  him,  and 
then  very  slowly  her  lips  parted  with  a  smile,  and  she 
shook  her  head. 


Ube  Greatest  61ft  199 

"I  won't  bother  you  any  more  ;  but  don't  try  to  set 
up  a  wrong-  sign-post.  I  read  that  sign  as  '  no  thor- 
oughfare. '  Am  I  right  ?  " 

"Yes;  I  am  afraid  so." 

"Well,  I'll  try  another  road.  Will  you  wait  here  a 
minute  for  me?" 

She  ran  off,  and  returned  almost  directly  with  God- 
frey. 

"Phew!  Now  for  some  by-play,"  said  Dallas  to 
himself. 

The  girl  linked  her  arm  in  Godfrey's  to  prevent  his 
leaving,  and  then  opened  fire  at  once. 

"  I'm  the  grand  inquisitor/'  she  said,  "and  you  two 
have  been  detected  in  the  very  act  of  conspiracy,  and 
I  have  to  question  you." 

The  two  men  exchanged  a  rapid  glance. 

"No,  no  ;  it's  no  use  trying  to  signal  to  one  another. 
Grand  inquisitors  didn't  stand  that  kind  of  thing  in 
Spain,  and  they  won't  put  up  with  it  in  Seacove.  The 
charge  against  you  rests  at  present  on  suspicion,  and 
suspicion  which  your  own  acts  have  served  to  create. 
You,  Godfrey,  on  Wednesday,  went  from  home  to 
Middlingham,  to  meet  and  consult  with  you,  Mr.  Dallas. 
You  did  consult  or  conspire  together,  and,  as  part  of 
the  arrangement  or  plot,  you  agreed  to  meet  here  to- 
day. As  soon  as  you  met  you  resumed  your  secret 
consultation,  and  were  seen  to  be  in  close  conference. 
More  than  that,  the  emissaries  of  the  inquisition  have 
questioned  you  and  have  come  to  the  clear  conclusion 
that  there  is  a  secret  understanding  between  you 
which  affects  the  repute  and  well-being  of  some  of  us 
at  Seacove — you  needn't  exchange  looks  again — and 


soo  Ube  Greatest  Gift 

now  you  are  to  say  what  it  all  means,"  and  Margery 
looked  from  one  to  the  other. 

Hugh  Dallas  would  have  been  amused  at  the  awk- 
wardness of  the  situation  had  it  not  been  for  the  ex- 
ceedingly grave  look  which  clouded  Godfrey's  face. 

"I  have  already  asked  the  inquisitor  whether  it 
would  be  a  matter  of  much  surprise  if  the  guilt  were 
connected  with  authorship  and  publication,"  said 
Dallas. 

"You  have,"  answered  Margery  dryly,  "  and  I 
think  the  inquisitor  made  it  pretty  plain  that  she  had 
no  intention  of  being  hocussed  by  any  such  sugges- 
tion. " 

"Yet  that  is  just  what  it  is,"  said  Godfrey,  with 
emphasis.  "I  went  to  see  Mr.  Dallas  on  a  matter  of 
authorship. " 

Margery  looked  incredulous. 

"  Authorship  of  what  ?  "  she  asked. 

"The  authorship  of  a  story,  "said  Godfrey,  so  readily 
that  Dallas  was  surprised.  Godfrey  himself  relaxed 
something  of  his  gloomy  look  at  the  play  on  the 
word. 

"  What  story  ? "  asked  the  girl,  looking  from  one  to 
the  other. 

"Ah,  now  you  are  asking  more  than  we  ought  to 
tell,  I  think,"  said  Dallas,  seeing  that  Godfrey  hes- 
itated. 

"  Who  is  the  author?  " 

"  That  is  just  the  very  crux  of  the  question,"  replied 
Dallas. 

"Do  you  mean  me  to  think  that  Godfrey  left  here 
in  the  mood  he  was  in  on  Wednesday,  and  returned  in 


Greatest  CMft.  201 

the  mood  he  did,  merely  on  account  of  a  question  of 
the  disputed  authorship  of  some  work  of  fiction  ?  " 

"You  have  put  the  case  as  I  might  have  put  it," 
answered  Dallas. 

"Then  there  is  some  play  on  the  word  'story  '  or 
'  work  of  fiction  '  ?  " 

"  Don't  ask  any  more  questions,  Margery,"  broke  in 
Godfrey  bluntly,  and,  as  it  seemed  to  Dallas,  with 
agitation.  "It  is  a  matter  in  which  you  can  have  no 
concern,  and  that  must  suffice." 

The  girl  sighed. 

"  I  am  sorry  if  I  have  annoyed  you  by  saying  what 
I  have,  Godfrey.  I  wish  you  could  have  told  me.  It 
was  not  mere  curiosity  that  made  me  ask ;  I  thought 
it  might  have  been  of  use.  But  if  you  do  not  wish  me 
to  know,  I'll  say  no  more. " 

"I  would  rather  you  did  not  know  just  at  present," 
returned  Godfrey,  less  ungraciously.  "You  shall 
know  some  day  that  there  has  been  nothing  worth 
asking  about.  And  when  I  publish  my  book,  and 
get  a  great  review  of  it  in  Middlingham  Evening  News 
to  lift  it  into  fame,  you'll  see  how  wise  I  was  in 
going  to  consult  Mr.  Dallas." 

"Yes,  I  know  he  is  a  friend,"  said  Margery  simply, 
but  in  such  a  tone  that  it  warmed  the  latter's  heart  to 
hear  it. 

Some  of  the  others  came  in  then,  and  the  "  court  of 
inquisition  "  stood  adjourned  sine  die. 

At  dinner  Dallas  began  to  realize  something  of  the 
effect  of  the  scene  with  Mrs.  Rudyer.  She  appeared 
to  be  somewhat  nervous  and  uneasy  ;  she  blushed  a 
good  deal,  and  talked  much  with  the  captain,  at  whose 


202  Ube  Greatest  <3fft. 

right  hand  she  was  sitting.  But  Dallas  knew  her  well 
enough  to  be  able  to  tell  that  her  excitement  was  as 
much  the  result  of  nervousness  as  was  the  over-studied 
politeness  with  which  once  or  twice  she  spoke  to  him. 

He  knew  also  that  there  were  others  at  the  table  who 
read  her  conduct  much  in  the  same  way.  More  than 
once  he  caught  Nan's  eyes  fixed  upon  her  with  a  calm, 
critical  scrutiny,  and  the  slight  lifting  of  the  eyebrows 
and  barely  perceptible  drawing  down  of  the  corners  of 
the  girl's  sensitive  mouth  enabled  him  to  read  her 
verdict.  He  was  amused  by  this  at  first  ;  but  his 
amusement  was  cut  prematurely  short  by  his  sud- 
denly finding  her  eyes,  with  the  same  dispassionate, 
searching  scrutiny,  turned  from  Mrs.  Rudyer  full  upon 
himself.  Then  he  seemed  to  understand  that  she 
had  put  as  wrong  an  interpretation  upon  anything  she 
might  have  seen  as  the  husband  himself. 

The  latter's  conduct  annoyed  him.  He  watched 
his  wife  closely,  and  it  might  have  been  jealousy  ;  and 
whenever  she  turned  to  speak  to  Dallas,  the  latter  was 
sensible  that  the  other  man's  eyes — large,  light  blue, 
and  staring  eyes  he  had — were  fixed  steadily  on  him. 

"Working  out  a  fallacy,"  was  Dallas's  silent,  men- 
tal comment.  "Thinks  he's  suddenly  come  plump  on 
a  secret  of  his  pretty  young  wife,  and  he's  reckoning 
me  up,  like  a  bale  of  goods.  Going  to  be  pleasant' 
visit  this.  I've  already  been  brought  in  for  one  cross- 
examination  ;  I  escaped  a  sentimental  scene  with 
another  man's  wife,  and  put  up  the  back  of  the  man 
himself;  and  after  thinking  a  jolly  girl  was  glad  to  see 
me,  have  created  a  prejudice  in  her  mind  against  me 
that  has  turned  her  into  a  calculating  machine,  and 


ttbe  Greatest  (Bift.  203 

changed  me  in  her  view  from  a  friend  into  a  suitable 
subject  for  cold  analysis." 

And  with  that  he  turned  to  Margery  and  discussed  a 
new  novel  which  had  just  been  issued,  conscious  all 
the  time  that  the  girl  on  the  other  side  of  the  table  was 
listening  critically,  and  assaying  the  genuineness  of 
every  word  he  spoke. 

After  dinner  his  eyes  were  opened  still  more. 

He  drew  away  from  some  of  the  others,  and  was 
standing  in  the  dark  of  the  deepening  twilight,  smok- 
ing meditatively,  by  himself,  and  leaning  against  the 
side  of  the  house,  when  his  reverie  was  broken  by 
some  one  saying  in  a  sharp  and  somewhat  peremptory 
manner  : 

"I  think  we'd  better  have  a  word  together." 

He  turned  quickly,  and  found  Mr.  Rudyer  close  by 
his  side. 

"Certainly,"  said  Dallas,  wondering  what  new 
thing  was  going  to  happen. 

"Then  as  we  don't  want  to  be  either  interrupted  or 
overheard,  perhaps  you'll  follow  me,"  and  Mr.  Rudyer 
led  the  way  in  silence  to  a  path  at  some  distance  from 
the  house. 

"This'll  do,"  he  said,  suddenly  facing  round. 
"Now,  please  to  understand  I'm  a  business  man,  ac- 
customed to  look  into  things  for  myself,  and  not 
afraid  to  figure  them  up  at  any  time,  no  matter  the  state 
of  the  ledger.  You'll  understand  what  I  mean,  for  I 
hear  you're  'cute  enough.  What  I  want  from  you  is  a 
plain  answer  to  a  plain  question.  What  does  this 
mean  ? " 

"That  may  be  a  plain  question  to  you,   but  it  is  not 


204  Ube  Greatest  (Bitt 

so  to  me,"  answered  Dallas.  "If  you  make  it  plain, 
I'll  answer  it." 

"I'll  soon  do  that.     Your  name  is  Hugh  Dallas ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  You're  an  old  friend  of  my  wife's  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  You  were  engaged  to  her  once  upon  a  time? " 

"Five  years  ago  it  was  broken  off." 

"  My  wife  has  been  staying  here  several  weeks  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"And  you've  been  visiting  here  all  that  time?  " 

"  I  have  been  here  several  times." 

"You've  walked  alone  with  her,  boated  with  her, 
played  tennis  with  her ;  and  this  afternoon  the  first  I 
saw  of  you  was  with  my  wife'  clinging  to  your  arm, 
and  then  dropping  on  to  a  seat,  so  agitated  that  when 
I  got  to  her  she  couldn't  speak  for  her  tears.  Is 
that  so  ? " 

"Except  that  you  have  somewhat  exaggerated  the 
incidents,  it  is  mainly  correct,"  said  Dallas  quietly. 

"Then  you  can  perhaps  begin  to  grasp  my  mean- 
ing. I'm  a  plain  man  in  my  dealings  with  men,  and 
say  the  thing  I  mean.  I  love  my  wife,  sir ;  although 
perhaps  you  think  I'm  a  fool  for  doing  it,  and  a  snob 
for  speaking  of  it.  But  I'm  neither.  I've  said  it  be- 
cause I'm  not  fool  enough  to  let  my  wife  run  risks. 
What  I  want  to  know  is  this,  why  are  you,  an  old  lover 
of  my  wife's,  hanging  about  her  here  in  the  way  I've 
said,  sailing  under  false  colors,  winning  the  confi- 
dence of  the  people  of  the  house,  holding  yourself  out 
for  a  man  of  honor  and  a  gentleman,  and  yet  having  a 
secret  understanding  with  my  wife  of  such  a  kind  as 


Greatest  <Wft  205 

to  lead  to  the  scene  I  witnessed  this  afternoon  ?  Now, 
I  ask  again,  what  does  it  mean?" 

It  was  some  considerable  time  before  Dallas  an- 
swered. 

"Most  men  would  be  pretty  well  roused  by  such 
a  speech  as  that,"  he  said  at  length,  after  considering 
what  answer  he  should  make,  and  struggling  to  pre- 
vent his  temper  rising.  His  voice,  however,  was 
sharp,  and  clear,  and  metallic.  "And  if  I  were  to 
turn  on  my  heel  and  tell  you  to  go  to  the  devil,  it 
would  be  doing  what  the  majority  would  say  served  you 
right.  But  I  sha'n't  do  that.  You  want  an  answer  plain 
and  convincing,  I  suppose,  don't  you  ? "  he  asked. 

"Why  else  should  I  have  asked  the  question?"  re- 
torted the  other. 

"  You  shall  have  it,  and  make  the  best  of  it.  You're 
not  built  like  ordinary  men — you  make  your  insinua- 
tions and  cast  your  sneers  wholesale.  I'll  borrow 
your  method,  and  don't  blame  me  if  it  hurts  you. 
Something  of  what  you've  said  is  true — more  is  untrue 
— and  the  abominable  deduction  you've  drawn  as  to 
my  conduct  is  just  one  big  infernal  lie.  If  you  want 
the  whole  truth  as  to  the  feelings  I  have  for  your 
wife,  here  it  is."  His  manner  grew  very  stern  and 
angry.  "Take  her  away — the  sooner  the  better  ;  and 
keep  her  away  alike  from  me  and  from  those  whom  I 
know  or  for  whom  I  have  any  concern,  and  for  whom 
I  don't  think  she's  a  fit  companion.  And  the  more 
effectually  you  prevent  her  from  ever  crossing  my  path 
again,  the  more  ready  I  shall  be  to  forgive  you  the 
wanton  insult  you  have  given  me  to-night."  And  with 
that  he  turned  away. 


206  Ubc  Greatest  <Mft. 

His  own  words  had  helped  to  rouse  him,  and  his 
anger  toward  Mrs.  Rudyer  was  keen.  Not  enough 
that  she  should  pester  him  with  her  smirking  attentions 
and  cause  misapprehensions  among  his  friends — that 
was  the  rub — but  this  fool  of  a  husband  must  single 
him  out  for  abuse. 

"Mr.  Dallas,  Mr.  Dallas, "cried Mr.  Rudyer, hurrying 
after  him.  He  was  eager  to  apologize  for  what  the 
intense  earnestness  of  Dallas  had  already  convinced 
him  were  unjust  suspicions.  He  was  partly  afraid, 
too,  of  a  possible  scene  with  his  wife. 

"What  now?  "  asked  Dallas  curtly. 

"I  have  wronged  you.  I  feel  I  have  made  a  mis- 
calculation. I  am  sorry.  Indeed,  I  am  ;  very  sorry. 
Will  you  accept  my  apologies  ?  I  am  sure  you  will 
understand  my  feelings.  I  couldn't  make  out  what  I 
saw.  I  am  very  sorry  I  have  wronged  you.  I  with- 
draw every  word  I  have  said,  fully  and  frankly." 

"Take  your  wife  away,  man,  and  keep  her  away. 
That  is  the  best  apology  you  can  make,"  he  an- 
swered. Then  dropping  the  brusque  bluntness,  he 
said,  in  a  more  natural  tone  :  "If  you  knew  how  ab- 
solutely and  grotesquely  you  had  misunderstood  the 
whole  position,  you  would  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  as 
a  plain  British  merchant,  for  having  speculated  in  such 
wild  absurdities  without  taking  the  trouble  to  make  a 
single  inquiry  as  to  the  condition  of  the  goods  or  the 
state  of  trade." 

"Well,  I  can  only  repeat  my  regret,"  said  Mr.  Rud- 
yer, feeling  the  sting  of  satire  in  this. 

"There  is  no  need  ;  keep  that  to  brood  over,  when 
you  come  to  find  out  how  ridiculous  you  have  been. 


Greatest  Gift  207 

As  for  the  rest — while  we  are  guests  in  the  same  house, 
that  is,  until  Monday  morning — we  can  take  mutual 
measures  for  the  courteous  avoidance  of  one  another. 
After  Monday,  you  and  I,  and  your  wife  and  I,  will 
be  absolute  strangers,  never  willingly,  so  far  as  I  am 
concerned,  to  meet  again.  And  now,  if  you  please,  I 
will  go  my  way  alone." 
Then  he  returned  quickly  to  the  house. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

"HURRAH!  here's  Mr.  Dallas;  now  I'll  just  tell  him, 
Nan.  Mr.  Dallas,  do  come  here,  and  just  help  me  to 
wig  Nan  ;  she's  been  behaving  in  a  most  disgusting 
fashion." 

"  Guy,  be  quiet  at  once,"  cried  Nan,  blushing  crim- 
son, and  looking  angrily  at  her  brother.  Then  she 
turned,  and  said,  somewhat  stiffly,  "Good-morning, 
Mr.  Dallas." 

"  Good  morning.     What  is  the  matter?  " 

"After  a  restless  night,  Hugh  Dallas  had  risen  rather 
early  and  gone  out  into  the  grounds  before  breakfast. 

"  It's  nothing  at  all  that  concerns  any  one — only  some 
of  Guy's  nonsense.  I've  no  time  to  listen  to  it.  I'm 
going  in." 

"Oh,  no,  you're  not,"  said  Guy  quickly,  catching 
her  by  the  arm  and  holding  her,  while  he  laughed  mis- 
chievously. "  You're  ashamed  of  yourself,  my  lady, 
I  can  see.  It's  just  this.  This  young  lady  has  been 
playing  fast  aad  loose  with  my  chum,  Don  Ramsey, 
and  treating  him  in  a  beastly  fashion.  She's  a  beastly 
flirt — ah,  would  you  ;  but  you  won't  get  free,  don't  you 
see,"  he  cried,  as  the  girl  made  a  vigorous  effort  to 
wrest  her  arm  away  from  him. 

"I'm  not  trying  to  do  anything  of  the  kind,"  said 
Nan  loftily.  "  If  your  boy's  chatter  pleases  you,  and 
208 


Ube  Greatest  Gift.  20$ 

if  Mr.  Dallas  cares  to  stand  and  listen  to  such  non- 
sense, I  don't  mind." 

"No,  I  see  that,"  retorted  the  boy,  with  a  grin. 
"That's  why  you  tried  to  break  away.  You  must 
know,  Mr.  Dallas,  that  Don  and  Nan  have  always 
been  spoons  ;  and  she's  led  him  on  until  he's  most 
awfully  gone  on  her.  I  know  that,  and  she  knows  it, 
too." 

"Don't  be  so  silly,  Guy.  Let  me  go  this  instant. 
I  shall  get  cross  directly." 

"All  right,  get  cross,"  he  replied,  laughing  again. 

"  Then  would  you  believe  it,  just  when  she  knows 
that  he's  more  spoons  than  ever,  she  chucks  him  over, 
and  flirts  in  the  most  abominable  and  barefaced  man- 
ner with  that  beast,  Bob  Momerie,  just  because  the 
measly  little  beggar  has  got  no  end  of  coin  and  all 
that  ?  Now,  isn't  that  just  a  beastly  chouse  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  I  know  nothing  about  it,"  said  Dallas. 

"Ah,  you  would  jolly  soon  if  you'd  been  here  all 
this  last  week." 

"Does  it  afford  you  much  pleasure  to  take  a  part  in 
this  ridiculous  scene,  Mr.  Dallas  ? "  asked  the  girl, 
flashing  a  look  at  him. 

"  I  think  Guy  ought  to  let  you  go  if  you  wish  to," 
he  answered. 

"Oh,  yes,  and  then  she'd  scoot.  Not  me.  She's 
got  to  have  a  wigging,  and  you'll  have  to  promise,  my 
lady,  to  stow  it,  or  else  I  vow  I'll  tell  everybody  about 
— you  know,"  he  said,  shaking  and  nodding  his  head 
mysteriously. 

"It  is  to  me  quite  indifferent  what  you  do  or  say," 
said  Nan  quietly, 
14 


210  Ube  Greatest  Gift. 

"  Is  it  ? "  he  returned,  with  a  threatening  laugh. 
"What  would  you  say  to  this,  Mr.  Dallas?  Oh  !  "  he 
cried  out  suddenly,  dropping  his  hold  of  her  and  clasp- 
ing his  hand  to  his  arm,  into  which  Nan  had  thrust  a 
pin  with  great  force  and  energy.  "You  little  vixen," 
he  called  after  her,  for  immediately  she  felt  herself  free, 
she  had  run  off  with  a  light  laugh.  "  I'll  pay  you  out, 
see  if  I  don't."  Then  he  turned  with  a  pleasant  smile 
to  Dallas.  "  One  too  many  for  me  that  time,  wasn't 
she  ?  You  have  to  get  up  awfully  early  to  catch  Nan 
asleep,  I  can  tell  you.  But  it's  true  about  that  Mom- 
erie,  and  I  think  it's  wretched  hard  lines  on  old  Don. 
Do  you  know  the  Momeries,  Mr.  Dallas?  Awful 
bounders,  I  think,"  he  said,  with  the  reckless  criticism 
of  youtK. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  should  hardly  be  pleased  with  that 
opinion  if  I  did  know  them,"  answered  Dallas. 

"No,  I'm  afraid  I  should  have  put  my  foot  in  it 
rather,''  answered  Guy,  coloring.  "  But  then  I  knew 
you  weren't  likely  to  cotton  to  people  of  that  sort.  I 
can't  think  whatever  Nan  sees  in  the  chap.  But  you'll 
have  a  chance  of  judging  for  yourself  to-day.  He's 
coming  over  this  afternoon.  See  if  you  don't  think 
he's  a  bounder.  And  old  Don's  awfully  gone  on  Nan. 
He  is,  really.  I  never  saw  such  a  case.  I  hate  a  flirt. 
I  told  Nan  before  you  came  up  to  us  just  now  that  I 
did  ;  and  that  as  I'm  the  head  of  the  family — I  am 
that,  you  know,  as  the  only  man — I'd  be  hanged  if  I'd 
put  up  with  it." 

"What  did  she  say?"  asked  Dallas,  amused. 

"Oh,  you  know  what  sort  of  a  girl  Nan  is.  She 
laughed,  and  pretended  she  didn't  care  a  rap  for  what 


ft  be  Greatest  6  (ft.  211 

I  said.  But  she  did  ;  just  as  old  Marge  does.  But 
then  girls  always  look  up  to  a  fellow.  Eh,  what  ?  " 
he  stopped  and  colored,  as  at  that  moment  he  caught 
Dallas  smiling  at  him. 

"  You're  quite  right  to  discourage  flirting,  Guy,"  said 
Dallas  gravely.  "  But  some  day  you'll  come  to  learn 
that  the  easiest  way  of  getting  some  young  ladies  not  to 
do  a  certain  thing  is  not  by  ordering  them  to  avoid  it." 

"Oh,  case  of  a  pig,  you  mean — pull  his  tail  and 
he'll  run  forward.  Ah,  but  Nan's  not  like  a  pig  in  that 
way." 

"Not  in  anyway,  I  trust,"  said  Dallas,  startled  at 
the  abrupt  and  practical  construction  put  on  his 
words. 

"Well,  I'll  tell  Nan  you  think  she's  a  pig  if  she  con- 
tinues to  flirt  with  that  beggar  Momerie,"  and  before 
Dallas  could  get  out  a  protest,  the  lad  had  gone  into 
the  house,  leaving  Dallas  half  amused,  half  irritated  at 
the  turn  things  had  taken  and  by  what  he  had  heard  ; 
and  the  event  of  the  afternoon  deepened  his  dissatis- 
faction. 

As  the  result  of  one  or  two  conversations  between 
Dallas  and  Godfrey,  the  latter  seemed  easier  in  his 
mind  than  he  had  been,  and  Captain  Drury,  after  the' 
early  dinner  which  they  always  had  at  the  Manor 
House  on  Sunday,  asked  Dallas  to  go  with  him  for  a 
short  walk.  In  the  course  of  this,  the  captain  spoke 
very  freely  about  Godfrey,  telling  the  other  how  it  had 
pleased  him  that  Godfrey,  in  a  moment  of  trouble,  had 
chosen  Dallas  as  the  friend  whom  he  had  hurried  to 
consult,  and  he  was  full  of  gratitude. 

"  I  am  glad  he  came  to  you,  Mr.  Dallas,  as  glad  as 


212  XTbe  Greatest 

if  he  had  come  to  me.  He  didn't  come  to  me,  you 
know,  in  this  matter  ;  but  of  course  I  can  understand 
that  hu  might  not  care  to  bring  such  a  bother  to  me.  I 
know  there  was  some  kind  of  trouble  ;  Margery  told 
me — asked  me  in  fact  what  it  was — and  told  me  he  had 
evidently  been  to  see  you  about  it.  I  don't  want  to 
ask  him  ;  I  daresay  he  thought  it  would  worry  me — 
though  of  course  it  would  not." 

He  paused  just  a  moment  as  if  to  give  the  other  an 
opportunity  of  speaking.  But  Dallas  said  nothing,  and 
then  the  captain  resumed  : 

"  Still,  what  I'm  glad  to  see  is  the  good  you've  done 
him.  He's  not  like  the  same  lad.  And  that's  made 
me  wish  just  to  say  a  word  to  you  and  ask  you  if  you 
could'  do  me  a  little  favor.  I  should  like  you  to  come 
over  as  often  as  you  can  during  the  time  from  now  to 
the  marriage.  Could  you  come  each  week?  " 

"  I  will  try,"  said  Dallas  readily.  He  had  his  own 
reasons  for  gladly  accepting  the  invitation. 

"  I  wish  you  would,"  said  the  old  man.  "  You  do 
him  more  good  than  Alan.  Alan's  a  dear  fellow — I  love 
him  like  a  son  ;  but,  I  don't  know  how  it  is — a  matter 
of  temperament,  I  suppose — but  somehow  Alan  and 
Godfrey  have  never  seemed  to  draw  together.  But 
you — why,  I  declare  I  believe  you  have  already  more 
influence  with  Godfrey  than  I  have,"  and  the  captain 
laughed. 

The  two  men  talked  over  the  subject  of  Godfrey 
during  the  whole  of  the  walk. 

They  turned  at  length,  and  taking  a  path  which  led 
from  the  coast  line  where  they  had  been  walking  to  a 
part  of  the  Manor  House  grounds,  they  entered  by  a 


Ube  Greatest  (Bift  213 

small  gate  of  which  the  captain  had  the  key.  The  path 
from  this  led  to  the  house  past  the  spot  from  which 
Dallas  on  the  previous  day  had  caught  the  glimpse  of 
Nan  which  had  so  pleased  him. 

When  he  saw  to  what  point  the  path  was  leading 
them,  he  recalled  his  sensations  of  the  previous  day 
and  smiled  both  at  himself  and  at  them.  It  was -so 
stupid,  he  thought,  to  be  pleased  just  because  he  had 
seen  a  girl  in  a  white  frock,  lying  in  a  hammock,  who 
had  been  pleased  to  see  him. 

He  glanced  across  to  where  the  hammock  had  been 
slung,  and  then  the  smile  faded  very  quickly  out  of  his 
face. 

Nan  was  there  again,  but  she  was  not  alone. 

"  Ha,  there's  young  Momerie,"  said  the  captain.  "I 
don't  think  you've  met  him,  have  you  ? " 

"  No — but  I've  heard  of  him,"  replied  Dallas. 

"  Good-hearted  young  fellow,  though  not  brilliant," 
said  the  captain,  who  never  had  any  but  a  good  word 
for  any  one. 

"A  favorite  with — with  the  young  folks?  " 

"  I  fancy  he  is.     He's  been  here  a  good  deal  lately." 

Nan  seemed  to  think  well  of  him,  thought  Dallas, 
when  he  saw  that  the  girl's  face  was  flushed  and  her 
eyes  quite  bright  with  pleased  excitement. 

Dallas  greeted  the  young  fellow  cordially,  telling 
himself  that  there  must  probably  be  something  in  him 
if  such  a  girl  as  Nan  really  cared  for  him. 

"  Have  you  seen  Alan,  Mr.  Dallas  ?  "  asked  Nan. 

"  No.      Has  he  come  over?  " 

"Yes.  We  said  we'd  send  you  to  him  if  we  saw 
you  first.  He's  in  the  library  with  your  old  friend, 


214  Ube  Greatest  (Bift 

Mrs.  Rudyer,"  she  said,  with  significant  emphasis,  as 
it  seemed  to  Dallas. 

"  Ho,  ho,  want  to  get  rid  of  us,  eh?"  laughed  the 
captain.  "Come  along,  Mr.  Dallas." 

"Uncle  !  "  cried  the  girl,  while  the  young  Momerie 
guffawed. 

"  Thank  you  ;  I'll  go  to  him,"  replied  Dallas  quietly, 
moving  away  with  the  captain.  "Seems  a  quiet  sort 
of  fellow,"  he  remarked  to  the  latter. 

"  Yes  ;  Nan  seems  to  think  he  likes  to  be  quiet,  too," 
returned  the  captain,  with  a  laugh.  "I'm  sorry  we 
were  out  when  Alan  came.  He  doesn't  look  to  me  to 
have  been  quite  as  well  lately  as  he  generally  is.  He 
hasn't  been  in  such  good  spirits  as  usual.  But  then 
we  haven't  seen  quite  so  much  of  him  as  we  used  to." 

They  met  Alan  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rudyer  coming 
out  on  to  the  terrace  together  as  they  reached  it,  and 
after  a  few  minutes  the  two  friends  drew  apart  from 
the  others. 

"You're  not  looking  very  fit,  old  man,"  said  Dallas. 

"  I'm  not  feeling  very  brilliant.  I  fancy  I  want  a 
bit  of  a  change.  I'm  going  away  in  a  bit,  yachting." 

"  When?  and  where?''  asked  the  other,  looking  up. 

"  You  mean  am  I  going  to  stop  for  the — marriage? 
Oh,  yes  ;  but  I  mean  to  have  a  goodish  spell  then." 

"Ah,  you  may  put  off  that  trip  for  a  while  then." 

"How  do  you  mean?  Anything  up?  I  haven't 
been  here  for  some  days,  and  haven't  spoken  to  any  one 
yet.  I  wanted  to  get  a  word  with  Nan,  but  that  young 
Momerie's  been  hanging  round  here  ever  since  I  came 
this  afternoon.  Has  anything — "  He  stopped,  and 
looked  with  some  eagerness  into  his  friend's  face. 


Ube  Greatest  Gift  215 

"No,  nothing  that  I — know." 

"What  do  you  mean,  then?  You  had  a  mean- 
ing. " 

"You  never  can  tell  what  will  happen.  That's  all. 
I  shouldn't  fix  up  my  arrangements  too  definitely, 
if  I  were  you,  although  I  hear  now  that  the  thing  is  to 
come  off  three  weeks  next  Tuesday." 

Alan's  face  fell,  and  he  looked  thoughtful.  Then  he 
took  out  a  cigarette  and  lighted  it  before  replying. 

"  I  don't  quite  see  why  you  started  that  other  idea. 
I — well,  I  suppose  I'm  a  fool — but  I'd  a  good  mind  to 
run  over  and  see  you  on  Friday,  to  have  a  chat  about 
a  rather  curious  thing  that  happened.  I  had  a  half- 
sneaking  kind  of  thought  that  I  might  have  heard  some 
good  news  here  to-day." 

"Why  ?  "  asked  Dallas,  when  the  other  man  paused. 

"Of  course  I  don't  attach  any  importance  to  it,  but 
the  truth  is  " — here  he  gave  a  short  laugh,  as  if  at  him- 
self— "I  had  an  anonymous  letter  on  Friday — : 

"  The  devil  you  did!  "  interposed  Hugh  Dallas,  so 
emphatically  that  the  other  looked  at  him  in  surprise. 

"  Yes,  I  did.     But  why  does  that  surprise  you  ?" 

"  Why,  indeed?  "  laughed  the  other.  "Everybody 
has  learnt  to  write  nowadays.  But  what  was  it  about  ?  " 

"  Well,  don't  be  surprised  if  I  seem  to  have  been  ass 
enough  to  think  it  could  mean  anything.  But  I  did, 
and  the  idea  has  been  plaguing  me  so  confoundedly 
for  two  days,  that  when  you  seemed  to  hint  just  now 
that  there  was  a  hitch,  or  might  be  one,  I  couldn't  for 
the  life  of  me  help  thinking  that  in  some  way  or  other 
the  two  things  were  going  to  join.  I  have  the  letter 
here. " 


316  Ube  Greatest  Oitt 

He  flushed  slightly  as  he  took  it  out  of  his  pocket 
and  held  it  out  to  Dallas. 

"  No  envelope  ?  "  asked  the  latter. 

"I  destroyed  it,  or  lost  it,  or  something." 

"That's  unwise.  Often  that's  the  only  kind  of  signa- 
ture an  anonymous  letter  has.  Well  thumbed,"  he  said, 
after  examining  it.  "You've  read  it  pretty  often, 
Alan." 

"  Yes,"  this  with  a  nervous  laugh. 

This  was  the  letter  : 

"  A  friend  who  knows  your  wishes  sends  this  to  tell 
you  not  to  be  down-hearted.  The  marriage  won't  take 
place.  You'll  hear  news  in  a  day  or  two." 

"H'm!  Oracular;  but  not  much  in  it.  What  do 
you  think  of  it?" 

Hugh  Dallas  asked  the  question  that  he  might  have 
time  to  consider  what  was  the  best  course  for  him  to 
take — whether  or  not  to  speak  of  the  letter  he  had  re- 
ceived. He  saw  in  a  moment  that  this  third  letter  had 
emanated  from  the  same  source  as  the  others  ;  and 
this  confirmed  his  own  view  that  there  was  something 
which  would  repay  inquiry.  But  he  had  no  wish  to 
raise  Alan's  hopes  only  to  discourage  him  again,  and 
arguing  that,  as  the  latter  had  thought  himself  into 
a  condition  of  comparative  resignation,  it  would  be 
wisest,  for  the  present  at  all  events,  not  to  unsettle  him. 

"No;  it's  what  do  jyou  think  of  it?"  was  Alan's 
reply. 

"Frankly,  I  don't  think  much  of  any  anonymous 
letter,"  replied  Dallas  deliberately,  as  he  folded  up  the 


trbe  Greatest  (Blft  3if 

letter  and  returned  it.  "And  in  such  a  case  as  this  of 
all  others. " 

"No,  I  suppose  not,"  replied  Alan,  hiding  his  dis- 
appointment at  the  answer  under  a  laugh.  Then  he 
lit  another  cigarette.  "I  told  you  you'd  think  me  a 
fool.  But  I  couldn't  understand  why  any  one  should 
want  to  take  the  trouble  to  write  to  me  at  all,  if  there 
wasn't  something  at  the  bottom  of  it." 

"Who  do  you  suppose  did  write  it?" 

"  I  haven't  the  ghost  of  a  notion.  That's  what  puz- 
zled me.  There's  nobody  knew  anything  about  me 
and  M — Miss  Allingham.  Nobody  could  know." 

"Somebody  seems  to  have  made  a  very  decent 
shot,  at  any  rate," said  Dallas.  "But  you'd  better  put 
the  thing  out  of  your  head.  At  best  it  could  only  be 
somebody  who  had  made  a  guess  at  your — your  feel- 
ings. They  could  not  by  any  means  under  heaven 
know  of  the  real  reason  for  this  engagement — unless 
Miss  Margery,  or  Miss  Nan,  or  I  wrote  the  letter.  And 
yet  that  very  reason  which  nobody  knows  is  the  one 
insuperable  difficulty  which  stands  in  the  way  of  a  rup- 
ture. Thus  there  could  be  no  cause  for  any  one  to  tell 
you  to  look  out  for  the  breaking  of  the  engagement. 
See  that  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  see  it  when  you  put  it  that  way,"  was  the 
answer,  spoken  slowly,  and  after  a  pause.  Then,  with 
a  laugh,  "Well,  I'll  try  to  give  up  thinking  anything 
of  it.  In  fact,  I  should  be  an  ass  if  I  didn't.  But  a 
fellow  clutches  at  a  straw  at  a  time  like  this,  and  that's 
the  truth." 

"You  won't  think  me  wrong  to  put  it  so  plainly  ? 
But  its  best  to  face  the  facts  full  front." 


218  tTbe  Greatest  Gift 

"  Yes,  I  know  that  ;  and  I —  But  there,  I  may  as 
well  confess — you  haven't  knocked  it  all  out  of  me 
even  yet." 

They  both  laughed  at  this,  and  then  some  of  the 
others  came  up  to  them. 

In  the  evening  they  went  out  together  again  to 
smoke  on  the  terrace,  and  stood  in  a  corner  where  a 
jutting  window  shielded  them  from  observation.  Alan 
Ramsay  had  forgotten  his  cigar-case,  and  went  to 
fetch  it,  leaving  his  friend  alone. 

Dallas  was  gazing  abstractedly  across  the  landscape 
which  stretched  away  in  front  of  that  part  of  the  Manor 
House,  when  he  heard  the  rustling  of  a  silk  dress,  and 
a  light  footfall  sounded  close  by  him,  and  a  hand 
touched  his  arm  lightly. 

"I  must  speak  to  you  for  a  moment.  I've  been 
waiting  for  a  chance  all  the  day."  It  was  Mrs.  Rud- 
yer.  "I  want  to  thank  you  for  having  done  what  I 
asked  you — about  Nan.  I  do  thank  you.  I»thoughtyou 
would,  when  you  knew  how  it  pained  me.  You  are 
as  thoughtful  as  ever.  I  have  been  wrong.  You  are 
not  changed,  Hugh,"  and  her  hand  pressed  his  arm 
slightly. 

Despite  the  annoyance  which  he  felt  at  Mrs.  Rud- 
yer's  conduct,  his  sense  of  humor  was  roused  by  the 
thought  that  she  should  have  mistaken  the  marked 
avoidance  of  him  by  Nan  for  a  desire  on  his  part  to 
avoid  the  girl  in  order  to  please  Mrs.  Rudyer.  His 
inclination  to  laugh  was  so  strong  that  it  prevented  his 
replying,  lest  she  should  misunderstand  him  still  more. 
But  he  moved  his  arm  away  from  her. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know  you  are  quite  right,"  she  said  in 


Ube  Greatest  Gift  219 

answer  to  this  gesture.  "But  I  am  in  terrible  distress. 
Have  you  heard  ?  Mr.  Rudyer  finds  he  must  go  back 
to  London  to-morrow,  and  I  have  to  go  with  him.  I 
thought  I  should  have  no  chance  of  bidding  you  good- 
by,  and  I  was  wretched.  I  dare  not  stay  a  moment 
now,  but  I  felt  I  must  tell  you  how  much  it  touched 
me  to  find  you  ready  to  do  what  I  asked,  although,  of 
course,  you  could  not  say  what  you  feel.  I  under- 
stand that.  It  breaks  my  heart  to  have  to  go  away, 
but  I  shall  at  least  have  this  last  bright  thought  to 
cheer  me." 

"This  is  preposterous,"  said  Hugh,  his  indignation 
and  anger  rising  fast. 

"Yes,  I  know  all  you  would  say.  Of  course,  you 
are  obliged  to  say  it.  Heaven  forbid  that  anything 
else  should  be  said  while  things  are  as  they  are.  Hush 
— who's  that  ?  " 

Footsteps  were  heard  on  the  terrace,  and  Mrs.  Rud- 
yer, as  if  in  fear,  pressed  close  to  Hugh's  side,  as  though 
to  get  out  of  sight. 

"Please  do  not  act  in  this  extraordinary  way,"  he 
said  ;  "  you  will  compromise  yourself  and  me." 

"  H — sh,  h — sh,  wait  till  they  have  passed,  and  then 
I'll  go." 

"I  think  you're  very  ridiculous,  and  that's  all  about 
it,  Mr.  Momerie,"  said  Nan's  voice,  to  Hugh  Dallas's 
infinite  chagrin. 

"Well,  Guy  said  it,  and  said  you  were  one,"  came 
the  reply  in  a  man's  voice. 

"Nonsense;  Guy  knows  nothing  at  all  about  it, 
Guy's  a  boy.  The  only  kind  of  flirting  that  is  utterly 
abominable,  and  despicable,  and  dishonorable,  is  flirt- 


220  Ube  ereatest  Gift 

ing  with  married  people,"  said  Nan.  "But  I  don't 
think  you  would  do  that." 

"  No,  hang  it  all,  I  should  draw  the  line  there,"  and 
with  that  the  voices  died  away. 

Nan's  words  had  been  uttered  in  a  tone  which  sug- 
gested strongly  that  they  had  been  spoken  to  be  over- 
heard. Both  the  listeners  thought  this. 

"She  must  have  followed  me,"  whispered  Mrs.  Rud- 
yer.  "She's  so  sly." 

"You'd  better  go  back  into  the  house,  please,"  said 
Dallas  grimly,  "or  you  may  hear  something  from  me 
which  will  not  be  pleasant,"  and  he  stepped  out  on  the 
terrace  and  turned  toward  the  French  window  leading 
into  one  of  the  rooms.  "  All  I  will  say  now — all  I  can 
trust  myself  to  say  is,  that  you  are  deluding  yourself 
absolutely,  and  the  sooner  you  understand  that  the 
better." 

"  I  understand  now,"  she  answered,  smiling  with 
provoking  sweetness.  "Like  you,  I  am  too  full  to 
speak.  Good-by.  We  must  wait." 

And  with  that  she  went,  leaving  the  man  aghast  at 
the  persistency  with  which  she  distorted  his  words,  and 
both  angry  and  uncomfortable  at  what  had  occurred. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A  GREAT  pressure  of  work,  owing  to  an  unexpected 
Parliamentary  election  and  to  a  number  of  heavy  local 
matters,  kept  Dallas  from  giving  much  attention  to 
anything  except  the  work  on  his  paper  during  the  next 
week.  On  the  Saturday  he  found  himself  quite  unable 
to  go  to  the  Manor  House  as  had  been  arranged  with 
the  captain,  and  he  wired  to  say  so. 

In  reply  to  his  telegram  he  had  a  very  friendly  letter 
from  the  captain,  urging  him  to  go  over  the  following 
week,  as  well  as  from  Godfrey,  seconding  the  invita- 
tion. 

In  the  meantime,  no  answer  had  been  received  to 
the  notice  which  had  been  inserted  in  the  paper,  and 
Hugh  Dallas  began  to  think  that,  after  all,  it  was 
merely  an  ill-timed  joke  on  some  one's  part,  and  when 
he  thought  about  it,  he  was  disposed  to  attribute  the 
whole  thing  to  Mrs.  Rudyer. 

"Women  will  do  such  infernally  curious  things 
that  it's  no  use  trying  to  look  for  what  ordinary  people 
would  consider  a  motive.  I  suppose  she  must  have 
picked  up  some  bit  of  gossip  about  some  woman 
named  Southerst,  and  pulled  the  bow  at  a  venture. 
I'm  glad  I  sat  on  Alan's  hopefulness.  Poor  old  fellow. 
I'm  afraid  he'll  feel  it." 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  Saturday  after  he  had  wired 
that  he  could  not  go  to  Seacove,  he  had  a  surprise. 

221 


Ube  Greatest  Gift 

A  telegram  came  for  him. 

"  Mr.  Rudyer  died  suddenly  two  hours  ago.  Am 
in  great  trouble.  Can  you  possibly  come  to  me. 
Need  advice  and  assistance  in  many  things.  Do  come 
if  possible. — BEATRICE  RUDYER." 

"  Phew  !  Here's  pretty  how  d'ye  do  !  "  he  exclaimed, 
with  a  whistle,  getting  up  from  his  desk  to  walk  about 
the  room  and  think.  "  I  can't  go.  Gad,  there  was  a 
time  when  that  message  would  have  drawn  me  half 
across  the  world.  But,  after  that  last  business —  No, 
hang  it,  I  can't  go.  I  can't  get  away.  Besides,  if  I 
was  to  set  off  to  London  after  wiring  that  I  couldn't 
go  to  Seacove  the  people  at  the  Manor  House  would 
think  it  awfully  curious  " — "one  of  the  people"  meant 
Nan,  but  he  didn't  own  this  to  himself  even.  "I 
should  like  to  help  her,  if  she  really  is  in  a  mess. 
But  she  has  her  mother ;  and  heaps  of  people  must  be 
ready  to  help  her.  Tisn't  as  if  she  were  poor.  Yet, 
one  feels  rather  a  brute  not  to  go.  But,  then,  she's 
such  a  little  humbug.  You  never  know  whether  what 
she  says  is  right  or  wrong.  'Am  in  great  trouble.' 
What  trouble?  I  believe  it's  all  fiddle-faddle.  But, 
there,  I  simply  can't  get  away.  Even  if  I  wished  to 
go,  I  couldn't.  And  certainly  I  don't  wish  to  go.  No, 
I  sha'n't  go.  I  shall  wire  and  say  I'm  awfully  sorry, 
but  I  can't  go." 

He  took  out  a  telegram  form,  and  wrote  rapidly 

"To  Mrs.  RUDYER, — Deeply  sorry  to  hear  of  your 
bereavement.  Cannot  possibly  get  away  at  this  mo- 


Ube  Greatest  <Bift  223 

ment.     Accept    fullest   sympathy  and   condolence. — 
DALLAS." 

"There,  that'll  do.  By  Jove,  it'll  be  a  bad  time  for 
her  ;  but  she's  got  her  head  screwed  on  in  the  right  way, 
and  there  will  be  plenty  of  people  about  to  look  after 
the  business  arrangements.  Expect  she'll  be  well  off, 
and  she'll  know  how  to  enjoy  it  all  after  a  time.  Now, 
let  us  see,  where  was  I  ?  "  and  he  turned  again  to  his 
work. 

But  he  could  not  fix  his  attention  upon  it  closely  ; 
and  the  thought  that  he  had  in  reality  acted  rather  un- 
kindly in  not  going  to  Mrs.  Rudyer  at  such  a  time  was 
sufficiently  strong  to  cause  him  some  uneasiness. 

Later  in  the  afternoon  she  wired  again  : 

"Your  telegram  a  great  disappointment.  I  am  ill 
and  in  trouble.  You  might  come  to  me. — BEATRICE." 

But  this  only  had  the  opposite  effect  from  that  which 
the  sender  had  designed. 

" She's  humbugging.  'You  might  come  to  me.'  I 
know  what  that  means.  Like  that  tomfoolery  at  Sea- 
cove.  Hankering  to  hark  back  to  the  past.  Not  for 
me,  thank  you." 

"  Regret  quite  impossible. — DALLAS." 

And  after  he  had  received  and  sent  off  the  second 
telegrams,  he  was  more  satisfied. 

When  he  reached  the  office  on  the  Monday,  there 
was  a  letter  from  her  which  had  been  delivered  on  the 
Sunday  morning.  It  was  a  singular  composition, 
partly  reproachful,  full  of  protestations  of  grief  and 


224  tbe  (Breatest  fctft 

trouble,  and  need  of  help  and  guidance,  and  with  ail 
undercurrent  of  suggested  affection.  The  letter  irri- 
tated him. 

At  mid-day  there  came  another,  posted  on  the  Sun- 
day, and  this  hinted  that  she  was  really  very  ill,  alone, 
and  wretched,  and  begged  him  to  go  to  her. 

He  would  not  go,  however,  and  wired  again  to 
say  so. 

She  attacked  him,  then,  in  a  different  way. 

"There  are  many  things  I  want  advice  on.  Can 
you  advise  me  if  I  write  you  ?  "  she  wired. 

"  Better  consult  your  lawyer,"  he  replied. 

"Some  very  private.  Am  writing,"  she  answered  ; 
and  then  he  saw  he  might  as  well  give  it  up.  In  this 
way  she  started  a  correspondence,  and,  during  the 
days  that  followed,  she  sent  him  always  one  letter,  and 
often  two,  each  day.  Most  of  them  asked  a  question 
or  two  on  some  trivial  points,  while  all  were  well  filled 
with  long  descriptions  of  her  feelings  and  wishes,  etc., 
being  written  with  an  air  of  absolutely  confidential 
frankness. 

This  correspondence  led  matters  on,  until  after  four 
or  five  days  had  passed,  he  received  a  letter  in  which 
was  a  passage  : 

"I  am  much  broken  by  all  that  has  passed,  and 
when  I  think  of  all  that  has  yet  to  be  done,  I  don't 
know  how  I  shall  get  through.  I  must  have  rest  and 
sympathy.  I  have  written  to  dearest  Margery  to  ask 
her  if  she  can  possibly  put  up  with  me  for  a  few  days 
at  the  dear  old  Manor  House.  It  will  be  such  a  com- 
fort to  be  among  friends  again  ;  and  to  have  you  close 
at  hand  to  whom  I  can  turn  with  such  confidence  for 


Greatest  Gift.  225 

advice  and  help  after  this  correspondence.  I  hope  to 
go  there  almost  at  once." 

"  Hang  the  woman,"  was  the  brief  eloquence  with 
which  Dallas  commented  on  the  passage.  But  he 
could  do  nothing  to  prevent  her  carrying  out  her  de- 
sign, although  he  resolved  to  go  over  himself  before 
she  could  arrive.  He  had  a  reason  for  this,  as  there 
had  been  a  further  communication  from  his  mysterious 
correspondent 

It  came  on  the  Wednesday  after  he  was  to  have 
gone  to  the  Manor  House,  and  was  as  follows  : 

"You  took  no  notice  of  my  last  letter,  and  have 
done  nothing.  You  were  at  Seacove  on  Sunday  week 
and  could  have  made  inquiries  about  what  I  told  you. 
I  waited,  thinking  you  were  going  over  again  last 
Saturday,  when  I  thought  you  might  act.  The  mar- 
riage is  fixed  to  take  place  in  less  than  a  fortnight,  and 
you  know  this  well.  If  you  want  to  prevent  a  crime, 
and  to  stop  an  innocent  girl  being  ruined,  you'll  act 
at  once.  If  you  don't,  other  means  will  be  found  next 
week  ;  and  whatever  they  are,  you'll  be  to  blame. 
Look  out. 

"ONE  WHO  KNOWS." 

"  The  plot  seems  to  thicken,"  said  Dallas,  when  he 
had  read  this.  "There's  a  different  tone  about  this. 
It  is  much  more  like  a  letter  which  Godfrey's  corre- 
spondent would  write.  There's  the  vague  threat  which 
speaks  the  female  mind — or  the  weak  man's.  But  it's 
a  woman,  sure  enough.  No  one  but  a  woman  would 
have  put  in  that  touch  in  the  other  letter  about  the 
15 


226  Ube  Greatest  etft. 

pity   for  a  cripple.     It's   some  one,  too,  who  is  well 
posted  in  what   goes  on  at  the   Manor  House.     Who-' 
ever  she  is,  she  doesn't  seem  to  have  seen  my  notice 
in  the  paper.     If  only  everybody  would  make  a  prac- 
tice of  reading  the  News,  how  convenient  it  would  be  ! 
Still,  I'll  try  another  notice,  and  I'll  put  something  into 
the  advertising  columns  as  well."     And  then  he  wrote 
out  both,  simply  asking  the  writer  of  the  letter  to  com- 
municate with  him. 
On  Saturday  morning  there  was  an  answer  saying  : 

"  I  have  seen  the  advertisement ;  but  I  mean  to 
wait  and  see  what  you  do.  You  are  going  to  Seacove 
on  Saturday.  You'll  find  some  news  there.  It  ought 
to  be  easy  for  you  to  act  now. 

"ONE  WHO  KNOWS." 

"How  the  dickens  does  she  get  to  know  what  I'm 
going  to  do  !  "  he  mused,  as  he  read  and  thought  over 
the  letter  in  the  train  on  his  way  to  the  Manor  House. 
"  She  either  lives  in  the  house,  or  has  some  one  there 
who  keeps  her  thoroughly  posted.  I  must  think  of 
that.  Looks  as  though  she's  only  learnt  since  Tues- 
day, when  she  must  have  written  the  last  letter,  that 
I'm  going  over  this  week  end ;  else  she'd  have  men- 
tioned it  then.  It's  a  singular  mixture  all  round. 
What  will  the  news  be  that  she  speaks  of?  She's  done 
one  thing,"  he  murmured,  as  he  leant  back  in  the  car- 
riage and  held  his  cigar  up,  turning  it  round  and  round 
as  if  critically  examining  the  ash — "she's  made  me 
believe  in  her.  There  will  be  news  of  some  sort  and 
in  some  way  connected  with  her,  whoever  she  is — of 


Ube  <3reate5t  Gift  227 

that  I  feel  sure."  Then  he  suddenly  broke  the  thread 
of  his  thoughts  and  exclaimed  aloud,  "I  hope  that 
woman  won't  be  there,"  and  this  led  him  to  the  sub- 
ject of  all  the  circumstances  of  the  last  visit  and  so  to 
Nan.  And  with  her  his  thoughts  were  content  to  stay 
some  time. 

He  went  by  the  same  way  from  the  station  as  at  his 
last  visit,  and  when  he  reached  the  point  at  which  he 
had  then  caught  sight  of  Nan,  he  glanced  involuntarily 
towards  the  spot  where  the  hammock  had  been  slung. 
But  neither  the  hammock  nor  the  girl  was  there  to- 
day. He  caught  sight  of  her  directly  afterwards,  how- 
ever, walking  to  and  fro  on  the  terrace,  and  his  pulses 
quickened  slightly  as  the  question  flashed  upon  him 
whether  she  had  been  looking  out  for  his  coming. 

"More  probably  waiting  for  young  Momerie,"  he 
murmured  to  himself  the  next  minute.  "By  Jove, 
she  was  looking  out  for  me.  Here  she  comes.  She 
doesn't  look  as  she  did  last  time,  though." 

"I  have  been  waiting  to  ask  a  question,"  said  the 
girl,  in  a  very  formal  and  somewhat  distant  manner, 
after  they  had  shaken  hands.  "It  concerns  Margery, 
or  I  shouldn't  have  troubled  you — "  and  she  flashed  a 
defiant  look  at  him.  "  Margery  wishes  to  speak  to 
you  as  soon  as  possible  about  this,"  holding  out  a 
letter  to  him.  "She  received  it  this  morning  ;  and  as 
we — as  she  did  not  know  whom  to  speak  to  about  it, 
and  we  didn't  know  what  to  do  about  it,  I — she  thought 
of  you.  She's  very  sorry  to  trouble  you  ;  we  both  are 
— especially  at  a  time  when  you  have  so  much  trouble 
among  your  own  friends,"  with  a  great  deal  of  accent 
on  the  last  word. 


228  tlbe  (Breatest  etft 

"I  am  sorry  your  sister  should  think  that  anything 
I  can  do  for  her  would  be  considered  a  trouble." 

"  I  don't  think  Margery  does  think  it,"  said  Nan. 

"Oh,  it  is  only  you  that  are  unjust  to  me."  The 
girl  flushed  and  looked  up  impatiently.  "Shall  I  read 
the  letter  now  ?  What  is  it  ? " 

"Margery  thought  she  would  like  you  to  read  it 
quietly  by  yourself  and  then  think  it  over.  That  was 
why  she  made  me  wait  and  look  out  and  give  it  you. 
I'll  go  and  tell  Margery  you've  come." 

He  watched  her  as  she  walked  across  the  lawn  and 
into  the  house ;  and,  after  she  had  gone  indoors,  con- 
tinued to  gaze  after  her,  very  thoughtfully.  And  some- 
how, although  he  could  not  explain  why  and  although 
it  was  apparently  in  direct  contradiction  to  the  girl's 
attitude  towards  him,  he  felt  rather  pleased  at  the  re- 
sult of  the  conversation. 

"  I  suppose  this  is  the  promised  '  news/ "  he 
said,  as  he  turned  away  and  unfolded  the  letter.  It 
was : 

"  If  you  think  you  are  doing  cleverly  to  marry  the 
cripple  who  will  one  day  own  the  Manor  House,  and 
if  you  think  you  can  succeed  in  cheating  him  into  a 
belief  that  you  are  marrying  him  for  love — you're  a 
fool  for  your  pains.  You  won't  do  this.  Those  are 
on  the  watch  who  know  the  facts,  and  they'll  take 
care  that  the  cripple's  eyes  are  opened  to  the  truth. 
What  sort  of  a  woman  are  you  to  be  willing  to  marry 
such  a  one  just  for  his  money,  when  you  don't  love 
him  ?  You  know  why  you  don't  love  him.  Such  a 
marriage  is  a  sin.  But  there's  more  behind.  Ask  Mr. 


Ube  Greatest  Gift.  229 

Dallas  when  he  is  at  the   Manor   House   to-morrow. 
He  knows  a  lot.  "A  WELL-WISHER." 

"There's  no  doubt  about  that  being  from  a  woman 
at  any  rate,  whatever  may  be  said  of  the  rest.  It 
clears  the  ground,  too,  somewhat.  If  the  woman  isn't 
masking  some  of  her  knowledge,  it  shows  that  she 
knows  nothing  about  the  real  motive  of  this  engage- 
ment. If  she  had  known  it,  she'd  have  gone  straight 
to  the  point,  and  have  opened  the  old  captain's  eyes. 
It  shows,  too,  that  she  either  doesn't  know  Margery 
herself,  or,  knowing  her,  hates  her — all  of  which  points 
strongly  to  a  powerful  personal  feeling  against  the 
girl.  Why  should  that  be  ?  Why,  indeed,  if  this  wo- 
man " — shaking  the  letter  in  his  hand — "doesn't  want 
to  marry  him  herself?  Now  then,  who  the  deuce  can 
that  be?" 

He  took  two  or  three  turns  on  the  terrace,  thinking 
intently,  pulling  vigorously  at  a  cigarette  he  had 
lighted. 

"  I'm  beginning  to  see  the  way,"  he  said,  at  length  ; 
"but  it  will  be  a  stiff  climb.  Meanwhile,  what  am  I 
to  say  to  these  girls  ?  "  Then  his  face  broke  into  a 
smile.  "  I'm  glad  it  was  Nan  who  thought  of  consult- 
ing me;  and  I  think  I'm  more  glad  that  she  tried  to 
hide  that  fact  just  now,  and  only  let  it  out  by  acci- 
dent." 

At  that  moment  the  girl  came  to  one  of  the  French 
windows. 

"Margery  is  in  the  library,  Mr.  Dallas.  Will  you 
come  to  her  there  ?  " 

"Certainly,  Miss  Nan,"  said  Dallas  readily. 


230  Ube  Greatest  6ftt. 

"It's  very  good  of  you  to  come  and  take  pity  on 
us,"  said  Nan,  as  they  passed  through  the  house  to 
the  library. 

"Take  pity  on  you?  "  he  echoed. 

"  Yes.  I'm  afraid  you'll  find  the  place  very  dull " — 
she  spoke  a  little  nervously — "I  mean  now  that  our 
• — our  visitors  have  gone." 

"I  have  been  over  to  see  you  and  not  your  visitors," 
answered  Dallas. 

"Yes,  it's  very  kind  to  say  so.  We  were  very  sorry 
you  could  not  come  last  week." 

He  was  quick  to  see  that  she  connected  the  fact  of 
his  absence  with  the  departure  of  the  Rudyers. 

"You  and  I  seem  to  look  at  the  same  event,  and  to 
draw  very  different  conclusions  from  it,  Miss  Nan," 
he  said.  "Last  week  I  was  kept  away  by  urgent 
press  of  matters  connected  with  my  paper." 

"It  is  very  sad  about  poor  Mr.  Rudyer,  is  it  not  ?  " 
asked  Nan,  as  she  turned  and  looked  at  him,  and 
smiled  with  sweet  sarcasm.  "Poor,  dear  Beatrice  ; 
I  am  afraid  she  will  feel  it  very  much.  We  expected 
her  here  to-day.  Ah,  you  are  surprised."  And  before 
Hugh  Dallas  could  make  any  answer,  or  could  tell  her 
that  he  had  declined  going  to  London  because  he 
wished  to  come  to  the  Manor  House,  the  door  of  the 
library  opened,  and  Margery  stood  with  outstretched 
hand  waiting  to  greet  him 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

"UNCLE  and  Godfrey  have  gone  to  see  about  some 
alterations  on  one  of  the  farms,  Mr.  Dallas  ;  and  uncle 
said  that  with  your  strong  views  on  the  land  question, 
he  was  sure  you  would  think  a  tenant  had  more  right 
to  his  landlord's  time  than  even  a  guest  to  that  of  his 
host,  and  that  you  would  therefore  excuse  him  for  not 
being  here  when  you  arrived." 

Margery  said  this  as  they  shook  hands. 

"Certainly,"  answered  Dallas.  "I  would  rather  be 
treated  without  ceremony — like  a  friend  of  the  family." 

"It  is  just  in  that  character  I  want  to  speak  to  you 
about  that  letter.  When  Nan  urged  me  to  talk  quite 
frankly  to  you,  I  did  not  like  to  do  that  at  first ;  but  I 
have  come  to  her  way  of  thinking,  you  see.  What  do 
you  make  of  the  letter  ? " 

At  the  reference  to  Nan's  part,  Dallas  had  turned  to 
her  and  saw  that  she  colored. 

"You  see,  your  name  was  mentioned  in  the  letter, 
and  we  didn't  know  what  that  might  mean,"  said  Nan, 
as  if  explaining  away  what  Margery  had  said.  "  Other' 
wise,  of  course,  we  should  not  have  thought  of  you." 

' '  Of  course  not, "  he  replied. 

"I  don't  say  that,"  said  Margery.  "If  I  consult 
you,  it  is  far  more  as  a  friend  of  Godfrey's  and  uncle's 
and  everybody's,  than  because  your  name  is  mentioned 

231 


233  TTbe  Greatest  6ftt. 

in  the  letter.  Do  you  know  anything,  as  this  wretched 
letter  says?  I  mean,  is  there  any  reason  why  one 
should  take  the  slightest  notice  of  such  a  thing?  I 
feel  almost  ashamed  of  myself  for  even  giving  it  a 
second  thought." 

"It  is  a  coincidence  that  this  morning  I  received  a 
letter  on  the  same  topic — the  second  I  have  had — but 
I  do  not  attach  importance  to  any  letter  to  which  a 
writer  dares  not  put  his  name. "  As  he  was  answering, 
Dallas  was  conscious  that  Nan's  eyes  were  fixed  very 
searchingly  upon  his  face,  as  if  to  read  his  thoughts. 

"You  do  not  know  of  any  one  who  could — I  mean 
— who  could  put  such  ideas  into  Godfrey's  head  as  one 
here  suggested  ? "  said  Margery,  in  considerable  con- 
fusion. 

"I  do  not  know  of  any  one,"  said  Dallas. 

"You  would  not  take  any  notice  of  this  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  What  could  you  do  ?  " 

"Thatisjust  it.  But  why,  I  wonder,  are  you  brought 
into  it?  What  can  any  one  want  to  write  to  you  ? " 

"Either  truthfully,  or  as  a  mask  in  order  to  make 
mischief,  the  writer  gave  as  the  reason  that  I  was  a 
public  man.  There  seems  to  be  a  common  impression 
that  an  editor  is  a  sort  of  unofficial  policeman  and 
father  confessor  combined,  to  whom  any  one  can  go  to 
get  him  to  do  what  they  are  afraid  to  do  themselves. 
That,  however,  is  scarcely  my  own  view  of  my  work. 
I  have  no  mission  of  the  kind." 

"Then  I  may  destroy  the  letter,  you  think?"  asked 
Margery. 

"Certainly,  unless  you  would  like  me  to  keep  it  in 
the  extraordinary  event  of  anything  coming  from  this  ? " 


Ube  Greatest  Gift,  233 

She  gave  him  the  letter,  and  then  the  conversation 
became  more  general,  and  after  a  while  they  went  out 
on  to  the  terrace,  where,  for  a  few  minutes,  Nan  and 
Dallas  were  left  alone. 

"Why  do  you  give  us  just  half-confidences?" 
asked  the  girl  suddenly. 

"  Have  I  done  so  ?     When  ?  "  he  replied. 

"Just  now.  Margery  could  not  see  it  because  she 
was  naturally  somewhat  nervous  at  speaking  to  you 
at  all  about  the  matter.  But  I  could  see  it  plainly 
enough.  When  did  you  have  that  first  letter  ?  " 

"Oh,  some  days  ago." 

"  Exactly.  Just  about  the  time  when  Godfrey  made 
that  mysterious  visit  to  you,  I  suppose,  and  then  you 
came  over  here  and  had  confabs  with  him.  Are  you 
sure  you  'attach  no  importance,'  as  you  said,  to  an 
anonymous  letter?"  She  was  now  serious. 

"  What  is  it  you  wish  to  ask  me  ?  "  he  said.  "  Tell 
me  plainly,  and  if  I  can  answer  you,  I  will." 

"You  know  more  about  this  matter  than  you  told 
us  just  now  in  the  library,  do  you  not?  " 

"There  are  certain  circumstances  dealing  with  one 
phase  of  it  which  I  know  ;  but  at  the  same  time  I  know 
no  more  of  the  meaning  of  it  than  yourselves." 

"I  suppose  that  is  a  very  diplomatic  answer ;  but  it 
is  certainly  not  clear.  What  are  the  certain  circum- 
stances ? " 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  say. " 

"  Do  they  concern  Godfrey  ?  or  are  they  in  any  way 
connected  with  his  visit  to  you  at  Middlingham  ?  " 

"  You  would  make  a  good  cross-examining  counsel," 
he  said,  smiling. 


234:  tlbe  Greatest  Offt. 

"  If  I  were  one  you  would  be  compelled  to  an- 
swer, and  not  run  away  from  the  questions, "  she  re- 
torted. 

"I  am  afraid  I  must  in  this  case  run  away  from 
them.  I  should  like  to  tell  you  ;  but  for  the  moment 
I  cannot." 

"Yet  you  could  give  Margery  advice  to  take  no 
notice  of  the  letter,"  retorted  Nan,  as  it  seemed  to  him, 
a  little  indignantly.  "  I  doubt  if  you  realize  all  the 
misery  that  this  marriage  means  to  her." 

"  At  present  I  can  say  no  more  than  I  have  said.  I 
am  sorry,"  he  answered. 

"I  suppose  you  feel  that  women  can't  be  trusted," 
she  answered  sarcastically. 

"On  the  contrary,  there  is  no  one  whom  I  would 
rather  speak  on  this  subject  with  absolute  confidence 
than  to  you,  Miss  Nan,"  said  Dallas  earnestly. 

"It  is  perhaps  well  that  some  of  your  friends  cannot 
hear  you  say  that,  or  they  might  think  we  had  been 
quarreling  again,  and  patching  up  a  truce,"  said  the 
girl,  casting  a  somewhat  angry  look  at  him  as  she 
left  him  hurriedly  and  went  indoors. 

"There  spoke  the  woman,"  said  Dallas  to  himself  ; 
"  'variable  as  the  shade,  by  the  light  quivering  aspen 
made.'  But  I  am  afraid  she  has  half  a  thought  that 
I'm  not  running  exactly  straight  in  the  matter.  Well, 
I  can't  help  it.''  This  with  an  expression  on  his  face 
that  showed  he  was  not  pleased.  "I  wish  to  good- 
ness they  wouldn't  make  me  the  hub  for  all  these 
spokes  to  be  stuck  into  and  go  whizzing  round  without 
a  tire  to  keep  them  properly  apart.  I'm  hanged  if  I 
see  where  the  wheel's  running  to.  But  I'll  put  a  ques- 


ttbe  Greatest  ©ift,  235 

tion  or  two  to  Godfrey,  and  see  if  I  can  make  anything 
out  of  him. " 

He  found  a  chance  of  doing  this  on  the  afternoon  of 
the  next  day,  when  they  strolled  out  together  on  to 
the  cliffs. 

"You  have  heard  no  more  of  that  matter  which 
worried  you,  I  suppose,  have  you  ?  "  he  asked,  in  a 
somewhat  indifferent  tone. 

"What  matter?"  asked  Godfrey,  looking  with  a 
swift,  inquiring  glance. 

"That  anonymous  correspondent." 

"  Oh,  that.     No  ;  nothing. " 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.     You  are  looking  better." 

"Yes;  I  am  sorry  I  made  so  much  of  it,"  answered 
Godfrey,  with  some  hesitation.  "  It  is  a  thing  I  ought 
to  have  kept  to  myself.  I  had  no  right  to — to  go  talk- 
ing about  it.  But  for  the  moment  it  maddened  me." 
And  he  frowned  at  the  recollection.  "  But — " 

"Of  course  the  mention  of  my  name  was  enough  to 
make  any  one  anxious  to  probe  it,  at  all  events  to  the 
extent  of  asking  me  a  question,"  said  Dallas,  reading 
the  other's  thought. 

"  Yes  ;  that's  exactly  what  I  mean." 

Then  he  seemed  to  grow  nervous  suddenly.  He 
cast  his  eyes  about  him  hither  and  thither  ;  little  hec- 
tic spots  of  color  came  and  went  on  his  cheeks,  and 
he  raised  his  head  as  if  about  to  say  something,  but 
checked  himself.  This  happened  once  or  twice,  and 
then,  with  a  hollow  ring  in  his  voice,  which  revealed, 
his  nervousness,  he  put  a  question  with  such  evidently 
acted  carelessness,  that  Dallas  was  instantly  on  the 
alert. 


236  Ube  Greatest  (Bift. 

"You  must  have  a  great  many  different  kinds  of 
matters  come  under  your  attention,"  he  said,  clearing 
his  throat  with  a  cough. 

' '  Of  course  we  have  ;  all  sorts  of  things — serious, 
comic,  and  tragic — from  all  sorts  of  people,"  he 
replied. 

"  How  do  you  manage  to  remember  what  has  been 
in  and  what  hasn't  ?  " 

"System,  of  course,"  answered  Dallas  shortly,  know- 
ing that  Godfrey  was  not  after  information  of  that  kind. 

"I  suppose  you  haven't  a  record  of  all  the  names 
of  persons  that  pass  through  the  office  ?  " 

"Ah,  we're  coming  round  to  Esther  Southerst,  as 
sure  as  I'm  alive,"  he  thought.  "  Good." 

"Well,  no,"  he  said,  with  a  smile. 

He  had  thought  of  helping  the  other  out,  but  resolved 
to  let  him  travel  his  own  road. 

"  I  thought  that  would  not  be  possible,  from  what  I 
saw  when  I  was  at  Middlingham  in  your  office  last 
week.  I  suppose  you  would  have  a  record  of  some 
sort  of  people  going  to  the  office,  for  instance  ? " 

"Sometimes,"  answered  the  other. 

"This  kind  of  thing  always  interests  me — I  know  so 
little,  indeed  nothing,  of  business,"  said  Godfrey.  He 
had  thrown  off  much  of  his  nervousness  now.  "I 
remember  the  junior  partner  of  my  father's  solicitor 
once  told  me  he  kept  a  private  record — apart  from  his 
diary — of  every  one  who  entered  his  office,  with  the 
time  and  subject  spoken  of,  no  matter  whether  business 
or  pleasure." 

' '  A  man  of  method  with  a  particularly  orderly  brain, " 
replied  Dallas. 


Ubc  Greatest  otft.  ss? 

•'That  means  you  wouldn't  do  that.  No,  I  suppose 
not.  But  now  in  the  case  of  my  visit  to  you — don't 
let  me  seem  inquisitive,  though  it  is  nothing  but  curi- 
osity— where  would  you  draw  the  line  ?  I  remember 
you  were  called  to  the  telephone  and  took  down  some 
particulars  with  some  names — now,  would  those  be 
recorded  ? " 

His  voice  had  grown  nervous  again. 

"Let  me  think — what  were  they?  What  was  the 
incident  ?  " 

"  Some  accident,  I  think,  in  which  a  woman  or  some 
children  had  been  hurt.  Wasn't  the  name  South,  or 
Southerly,  or  Southerst,  or  something  ?  " 

1 '  Southerst.     Yes,  I  think  it  was,  Esther — Southerst. " 

Then  there  was  a  pause,  and  Dallas,  seeing  that  his 
companion  was  trying  to  recover  self-possession,  picked 
up  a  stone  or  two  and  threw  them  over  the  edge  of  the 
cliff,  waiting  to  watch  them  fall  into  the  sea. 

"No,  of  course  we  shouldn't  keep  any  record  of  a 
name  like  that.  Besides  if  I  remember  I  took  the  name 
in  mistake.  Some  blundering  fellow  at  the  other  end 
of  the  wire  hadn't  what  I  call  a  telephone  voice." 

"  It's  a  curious  name,"  said  Godfrey. 

"  Rather.  He's  brought  the  talk  where  he  wanted 
it,"  he  thought,  "and  now  doesn't  know  what  to  do 
next.  I'll  give  him  a  lift  over  the  stile.  Quite  strange 
to  me,"  he  said  aloud,  "at  all  events  till  I  came  here." 

"  Here  ?  "  repeated  Godfrey,  looking  up  suddenly. 

"Yes,  to  Middlingham,  I  mean." 

"  Do  you  know  any  one  with  the  name?  " 

"  No,  do  you?  "  he  asked  casually  ;  but  puzzling  as 
to  what  it  was  his  companion  wanted  to  find  out. 


238  trbe  Greatest  ©ift. 

"  No,  I  think  not.  Not  now.  But  it's  not  an  un- 
common name  about  certain  parts.  It's  curious  how 
names  keep  to  certain  districts,"  and  then  with  an  air 
of  relief,  evident  enough  to  his  shrewd  listener,  God- 
frey began  to  talk  generally  on  that  subject. 

Once  more  in  the  course  of  the  conversation,  Dallas 
detected  a  return  of  the  symptoms  of  uneasiness,  as 
Godfrey  brought  the  conversation  round  again  to  the 
subject  of  the  newspaper  office  and  its  methods. 

"  How  is  it  that  when  anything  happens  in  a  district, 
all  the  precedents  for  it  are  fished  up,  and  parallel 
cases,  or  cases  nearly  parallel,  immediately  get  into 
the  papers  ?  Do  you  set  people  to  hunt  over  the  back 
papers  ?  You  keep  all  the  back  papers,  I  suppose  ?  " 
asked  Godfrey.  - 

"Certainly.  We  always  have  files  of  our  own  and 
other  papers,  and  often  a  more  or  less  exhaustive  sys- 
tem of  indexing  the  papers  is  carried  on." 

"  Have  you  any  index  of  your  papers  ? " 

"No,  I'm  sorry  to  say  not.  The  men  before  me 
didn't  think  it  necessary,"  and  at  this  answer  he  fan- 
cied he  could  detect  a  slight  expression  of  relief  in  the 
other's  eyes. 

"Then  if  a  case,  which  was  thought  unimportant, 
occurred,  it  would  not  be  likely  to  be  remembered?  " 

"Probably  not,"  said  Dallas.  "But you  must  come 
over  and  give  me  an  hour  or  two  and  go  right  through 
the  office.  It  is  worth  seeing,  and  you  would  like  it." 

"I'll  come,"  said  Godfrey  and  then  the  topic  dropped. 

"There's  something  in  that  careful  carelessness  and 
very  curious  indifference.  There's  some  case  or  other 
that  either  he  wants  to  rake  up  or  doesn't  want  me  to. 


Greatest  Gift.  239 

I'll  look  into  that  to-morrow,"  he  said,  when  he  was 
alone. 

When  he  had  finished  his  work  the  next  morning, 
he  sent  for  Mr.  Clyde. 

Mr.  Clyde  was  one  of  a  class  of  men  to  be  found  on 
many  provincial  papers.  He  had  been  thirty  or  forty 
years  on  the  staff,  never  rising  above  a  reporter's  po- 
sition, from  lack  chiefly  of  adaptability.  He  had 
learned  the  slow  round  of  sparse  duties  on  the  paper 
when  it  had  been  a  small  weekly,  helping  when  help 
was  wanted  in  any  of  the  departments,  setting  the  type 
at  times,  feeding  the  old  machine,  reporting,  and  sub- 
editing, equally  ready  to  write  notes  or  a  leader  if 
wanted,  or  to  take  a  turn  at  addressing  the  wrappers 
or  even  delivering  the  papers  at  a  pinch — and  doing 
everything  in  the  same  routine,  dull,  mechanical 
method  ;  he  had  seen  the  paper  grow,  and  had  helped 
it  to  grow  first  from  a  small  weekly  to  a  large  and  im- 
portant county  paper,  then  to  a  bi-weekly,  and  at  last 
to  a  widely  circulated  evening  paper  of  great  value  and 
influence.  But  he  had  stood  still ;  and  had  never 
shaken  off  the  dull  routine  methods  which  had  made  him 
a  valuable  servant  enough  when  circulation  was  small 
and  leisure  abundant.  In  truth  he  regretted  the  old 
leisurely  days  when  reports,  like  cheese,  mellowed 
with  moderate  age,  and  "up-to-date"  was  an  unwrit- 
ten phrase,  and  papers  did  not  strive  to  palpitate  with 
actuality. 

But  he  had  his  value  yet  and  his  uses.  He  was  an 
inexhaustible  mine  of  local  knowledge  and  reminis- 
cences ;  and  the  rest  of  the  staff  were  accustomed  to 
sink  their  shafts  into  the  rich  veins  of  local  lore,  and 


240  ftbe  Greatest  Gift. 

hewing  the  information  in  the  rough,  polish  it  for  use 
after  their  wont.  He  bored  them  and  they  bored  him 
in  return,  as  one  of  them  said. 

"Mr.  Clyde,"  said  Dallas,  "  I  want  you  to  remem- 
ber a  case  if  you  can  ;  I  don't  exactly  know  the  de- 
tails ;  but  the  person  chiefly  interested  was  a  woman 
named  Esther  Southerst.  Can  you  recall  the  name  ?  " 

"Esther  Southerst,"  said  the  old  man — he  was  a  thin, 
sparse,  white-haired  man,  with  rather  heavy  white 
beard,  whiskers  and  mustache — all  as  unkempt  as  his 
clothes — rusty  black,  invariably — and  very  untidy  and 
ill-fitting.  "  Of  course  1  know  the  name  of  Southerst 
well  enough.  There  are  the  Southersts  of  Langton, 
and  the  Southersts  of  Bridgweir — but  I  don't  recall 
there  was  ever  an  Esther  'among  them.  What  family 
of  Southerst  would  it  be,  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  No  family,  I  should  imagine." 

*'Oh,  that's  a  different  sort  of  thing,"  answered  the 
man,  in  the  tone  of  one  who  has  been  looking  at  the 
wrong  volume  in  a  bookcase,  and  shuts  it  up  and  puts 
it  back  on  the  shelf.  "Let  me  think  again.  Dear 
me,  my  memory's  getting  very  treacherous.  At  one 
time  I  should  have  had  the  case  right  off," — Dallas 
smiled,  as  this  was  his  almost  invariable  remark — 
"  Southerst,  Esther  Southerst,"  he  said  meditatively. 

"Never  mind  now.  If  you  can  think  of  It  another 
time — " 

"  Stay  a  moment,  Mr.  Dallas,  it's  coming.  Yes; 
I  remember  a  case  of  an  Esther  Southerst.  Yes,  that  was 
the  name.  She  was  a  girl  who  tried  to  commit  suicide. 
Yes,  yes,  why  of  course,  Mr,  Darkly" — this  was  Dallas's 
predecessor — "  did  a  note — I'm  not  sure  it  wasn't  a 


Ube  Greatest  Gift  2*1 

short  leaderette — on  the  case,  and  he  came  to  me  to  get 
some  details.  Fancy  me  forgetting  that.  But  I  can 
turn  the  whole  thing  up  in  the  files,"  said  Mr.  Clyde. 

"I  wish  you  would,  and  let  me  have  them." 

"  Certainly  I  will.  I'll  bring  them  to  your  room  this 
afternoon,"  and  he  hurried  away. 

"Attempted  suicide, "  mused  Dallas,  when  he  was 
left  alone  again  in  his  room.  "Where  are  we  going 
now?  That  case  ought  to  be  interesting  reading." 

In  the  afternoon  Mr.  Clyde  was  as  good  as  his  word 
and  brought  the  files. 

"I've  found  it  easily  enough,"  he  said.  "I  re- 
membered after  I  left  you  what  the  point  was  that 
Mr.  Darkly  wanted  to  bring  out.  He  was  a  strong  ad- 
vocate of  prisoners  being  allowed  to  give  evidence  in 
their  own  behalf,  and  this  girl  was  obstinately  silent 
and  wouldn't  say  a  word,  though  it  seemed  that  some- 
thing peculiar  was  behind.  And  he  thought  the  case 
offered  a  reason  in  favor  of  his  theory.  Though  why 
a  wench  who  wouldn't  speak  when  off  her  oath  was 
likely  to  speak  when  she  was  on  it,  I  never  could  clearly 
see.  Anyhow  Mr.  Darkly  saw  it  and  wrote  it." 

It  was  only  a  very  brief  report  indeed,  but  there  wa» 
matter  in  it  for  reflection. 

It  stated  that  Esther  Southerst  was  charged  with  at- 
tempting to  commit  suicide  by  jumping  into  the  sea  at 
Barrleigh,  from  the  quay,  and  that  she  refused  to  give 
any  explanation  of  her  conduct.  She  was  remanded, 
and  at  the  second  hearing  still  refused  to  say  a  word. 
Inquiries  had  been  made,  but  nothing  had  been  found 
out.  She  was  a  stranger  whom  no  one  knew,  and  had 
arrived  in  the  town  from  no  one  knew  where  in  the 
16 


242  ZTbe  Greatest  Gift. 

afternoon  ;  and  as  soon  as  the  tide  was  in,  she  had  made 
her  attempt  and  had  been  rescued.  She  was  described 
as  a  dark,  sharp-looking-,  handsome  young  woman  of 
some  two  or  three  and  twenty  ;  and  as  money  was 
found  upon  her,  want  had  clearly  not  been  the  cause  of 
her  crime.  What  that  cause  was  she  refused  to  say. 

"There's  the  leader  note,"  said  Mr.  Clyde,  placing 
a  very  lean  and  very  dirty  finger  on  the  spot. 

Dallas  ran  his  eye  quickly  over  it,  looking  for  the 
point ;  but  apparently  not  finding  any.  It  was  a  case 
of  a  man  with  a  fad  having  twisted  the  facts  to  bear 
upon  the  favorite  theory. 

"  Don't  think  much  of  the  argument  either,  Mr. 
Clyde,"  he  said,  when  he  had  skimmed  the  note.  "But 
then  the  report  is  very  bare  and  thin.  Where  is  Barr- 
leigh  ?  " 

"  It's  really  almost  out  of  our  district.  It's  a  fishing 
hamlet  out  Tumbledon  way.  Do  you  know  that  ? " 

"No,  I  can't  say  I  do.  I  know  Seacove.  Is  it  any- 
where there  ?  " 

"It's  about  three  miles,  maybe  four,  along  the  coast 
from  there." 

"What  !  "  said  Dallas,  feeling  suddenly  very  in- 
terested. 

"No,  it's  not  more.     Barely  so  much." 

"  Nothing  more  was  heard  of  this  case,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"Yes,  there  was;  I  was  going  to  tell  you.  Mr. 
Darkly  used  to  have  sudden  fancies — fads  some  of  us 
thought  them — and  now  and  again  he'd  send  us  all 
scattering  to  what  he  called  '  work  up  '  things.  I  re- 
member now  in  this  case  (that's  why  I  recollected  so 
small  a  thing)  he  called  me  up  and  said :  '  Clyde,  I 


Cbe  Greatest  (Btrt  243 

fancy  we  can  "work  up  "something  out  of  this.' 
'  What's  that  ? '  I  asked.  '  Well,  I  think  if  we  could 
get  the  life  of  that  woman  Southerst,  either  from  her« 
self  or  somebody  else,  it  might  make  a  bit  of  a  splash ' 
— that  was  another  of  his  phrases.  So  off  I  went  to  go 
and  play  spy  and  private  detective"  on  her  track." 

"Well  ?  "  said  Dallas.  "What  did  you  do  ?  Not  a 
bad  notion." 

"I  don't  know  about  a  bad  notion,  Mr.  Dallas  ;  but 
I  don't  see  that  reporters  are  paid  to  go  spying  into 
the  private  affairs  of  suicides,"  replied  the  old  man. 

"All  right  ;  go  on  with  the  result,"  answered  Dallas, 
with  a  smile. 

"Well,  there  was  no  result  to  go  on  with.  When  I 
got  to  the  place  the  woman  had  gone — vanished  ; 
nobody  knew  where  she  had  gone  to  any  more  than 
where  she  had  come  from." 

"But  you  picked  up  something?  " 

"Nothing  worth  even  a  paragraph.  There  was 
some  loose  talk  about  there  having  been  something 
behind  ;  and  I  got  hold  of  a  woman  with  a  tongue  as 
long  as  a  verbatim  note,  who  said  the  woman  had  told 
her,  when  asked  why  she  had  been  so  quiet,  that  it 
paid  her  better  than  being  noisy.  But  I  got  nothing 
definite.  I  wasn't  sorry.  I  don't  hold  with  that  kind 
of  work.  Reporting  was  reporting  in  my  day,  not 
tale-bearing  and  gossip-sifting." 

"We  have  to  move  with  the  times,  Mr.  Clyde. 
Well,  thank  you.  Just  let  me  take  a  note  of  the  date 
of  the  paper.  Now  you  may  put  the  files  away.  It's 
an  interesting  case,  but  not  worth  rewriting  up."  And 
the  old  man  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

DURING  the  rest  of  that  day  Hugh  Dallas  had  that  re- 
port of  Esther  Southerst  frequently  in  his  thoughts, 
and  though  he  came  readily  enough  to  the  conclusion 
that  there  was  "something  behind,"  he  failed  to  think 
out  any  very  suggestive  solution  of  the  puzzle. 

Some  two  days  afterwards,  an  incident  occurred 
which  gave  him  a  considerable  shock,  and  roused  in 
him  quite  a  new  sentiment  in  regard  to  the  proposed 
marriage. 

It  had  seemed  to  him  so  far  a  piece  of  regrettable 
quixotism  on  the  part  of  Margery  Allingham  to  sacri- 
fice her  own  and  Alan  Ramsay's  happiness  in  order  to 
marry  Godfrey ;  regrettable  because,  as  he  had  once 
said  to  Alan,  he  did  not  think  it  would  effect  the  end 
in  view,  on  account  of  the  singular  disposition  of  the 
cripple.  But  he  had  no  thought  of  meeting  it  with  any- 
thing like  active  opposition.  It  was  no  concern  of 
his. 

What  had  happened  to  bring  him  into  such  a  con- 
spicuous position  had  been  thrust  upon  him  ;  and  the 
motive  which  had  instigated  him  had  been  more  sym- 
pathy with  his  friend,  tempered  unconsciously  with  a 
wish  to  secure  the  real  happiness  of  Margery,  whom 
he  liked,  and  unconsciously  with  a  stronger  desire  to 
do  that  which  would  please  Nan. 
244 


tTbe  Greatest  Offt  24* 

After  he  had  turned  up  that  record  about  Esther 
Southerst  he  had  an  instinct  of  uneasiness  about  the 
matter,  but  it  took  no  positive  or  definite  shape.  Sud- 
denly, however,  that  was  changed. 

It  was  his  habit,  when  an  event  of  any  considerable 
importance  occurred  anywhere  within  the  district  which 
was  more  particularly  that  of  his  paper,  to  go  himself 
to  the  spot,  in  order  to  acquaint  himself,  so  far  as  pos- 
sible, at  first  hand  with  the  considerations  which  might 
be  important  to  him  in  framing  any  comments  upon 
it.  On  the  Tuesday  a  somewhat  serious  scandal  af- 
fecting the  local  authorities  of  a  town  near  to  Seacove 
was  reported,  and  after  he  had  finished  his  morning's 
work  on  the  following  day,  he  determined  to  run  over 
to  the  place  and  see  what  it  meant. 

The  affair  had  been  largely  exaggerated,  as  a  very 
cursory  inquiry  convinced  him,  and  he  determined, 
therefore,  to  go  on  to  the  Manor  House — it  was  only 
some  few  miles,  and  the  trains  fitted — to  pay  a  chance 
visit. 

He  was  partly  guided  in  this  by  a  wish  to  have  a 
chat  with  Godfrey  while  the  case  of  Esther  Southerst 
was  fresh  in  his  own  mind,  and  while  his  conversation 
with  Godfrey  would  still  be  fresh  in  the  latter's. 

He  walked  quickly  from  the  station,  and,  as  he  was 
not  expected,  deemed  it  best  to  go  to  the  house  by  the 
ordinary  lodge  entrance,  instead  of  taking  the  short  cut 
through  the  grounds  which  he  had  used  before.  The . 
drive  wound  through  a  long  avenue  of  fine  trees  with 
thick  shrubberies  on  either  side,  broken  here  and  there 
with  one  or  two  lawns  ;  while  from  it  several  paths 
led  right  and  left  in  different  directions  through  the 


246  Ube  Greatest  (Bfft 

grounds.  On  both  sides  of  the  drive  was  a  border 
of  turf,  and,  the  afternoon  being  very  hot,  Dallas 
walked  on  this  as  a  relief  from  the  hot  and  dusty 
roadway. 

He  walked  at  a  good  pace,  his  usual  habit,  and  his 
quick  observant  eyes  were  cast  about  him  in  search  of 
some  signs  of  any  of  the  family,  and  he  had  covered 
about  half  the  distance  between  the  lodge  arid  the  house 
when  a  sound  coming  from  the  shrubbery  to  his  left 
brought  him  to  a  standstill. 

It  was  the  yelping  cry  of  an  animal  in  pain  ;  and, 
when  he  stood  to  listen,  the  sound  of  blows,  quick  and 
violent,  with  the  whistling  of  a  whip  lash. 

Looking  about  him,  he  saw  a  spot  where  the  shrub- 
bery was  thin  enough  for  him  to  look  through,  and  he 
ran  to  it  and  peered  eagerly  in  the  direction  from  which 
the  sounds  came.  Any  animal  in  pain  found  in  him  a 
friend  and  defender,  and  he  meant  to  go  at  once  to  the 
rescue. 

At  some  distance  from  the  path  a  dog  lay  crouching 
at  the  foot  of  a  tree,  to  which  he  was  fastened  by  a 
rope,  and  over  him  stood  Godfrey  Drury,  with  a  heavy 
riding  whip,  thrashing  the  poor  quivering,  yelping, 
suffering  creature  with  violent  and  merciless  ferocity. 
The  young  fellow's  face  was  distorted  with  the  fury  of 
his  passion  ;  his  cheeks  were  deadly  white  with  rage, 
his  lips  blue  and  set,  while  his  eyes  flashed  with  an 
intensity  of  absorbed  and  concentrated  passion  and 
vindictive  rage. 

The  look  on  his  face,  when  it  was  turned  once  in 
his  direction,  almost  frightened  Dallas  by  the  depth  of 
potential  cruelty  which  it  seemed  to  reveal.  A  crowd 


Greatest  <3ift.  247 

of  feelings  came  upon  him,  overriding  even  his  great 
sympathies  for  the  poor  beaten  hound,  and  holding  him 
silent  while  he  watched. 

The  dog  ceased  to  howl  after  a  minute,  and  lay  only 
quivering  as  he  took  his  fearful  punishment  in  silent 
agony.  But  the  silence  maddened  his  master  even 
more  than  the  semi-resistance  of  his  cries  had  done, 
and  he  set  upon  the  poor  beast  with  his  feet  and  kicked 
him  brutally  and  fiercely,  and  struck  him  with  the  butt 
end  of  the  whip,  and  hit  him  with  his  clenched  fists, 
and  finally  spat  upon  him  ;  till  at  last  in  kicking  at  the 
dog  he  missed  and,  overbalancing  himself,  fell  to  the 
ground. 

He  lay  still  a  minute,  until  Dallas  thought  he  was 
hurt  and  started  to  go  to  his  assistance. 

But  he  was  not  hurt.  He  sat  up  on  the  ground,  and 
then  rose  to  his  feet  and  looked  about  him  in  a  dazed, 
bewildered  manner,  and  stood  with  his  hand  pressed 
to  his  forehead. 

Next  he  looked  at  the  dog  whom  he  had  so  cruelly 
beaten,  and  the  sight  affected  him  until  a  look  of  in- 
tense pain  came  on  his  face.  He  moved  towards  the 
dog  and  his  foot  kicked  against  the  heavy  whip.  He 
seized  it  and  snapped  it  across  his  knee  and  hurled  the 
pieces  from  him,  and  then  threw  himself  headlong  by 
the  side  of  the  dog,  and,  unfastening  the  rope  with 
trembling  fingers,  he  put  his  arm  round  the  animal's 
neck  and  kissed  it  and  caressed  it  with  many  gestures 
and  words  of  affection. 

Hugh  Dallas  turned  away  from  the  spot  distressed, 
pained  and  frightened  at  what  he  had  seen,  and  at  the 
thoughts  which  forced  themselves  upon  him  as  the 


Greatest  6ift. 

result,  and  continued  his  walk  with  slow,  heavy  steps 
in  the  direction  of  the  house. 

"My  God,  is  he  mad?"  he  said  to  himself  in  a 
whisper  under  his  breath,  and  he  began  to  realize  then 
what  the  marriage  might  mean  for  Margery. 

"  Dear  me,  Mr.  Dallas,  have  you  seen  a  ghost  ?  " 

Hugh  Dallas  looked  up,  and  found  Nan  holding  out 
her  hand  to  him,  and  looking  at  him  with  heightened 
color. 

"No,  Miss  Nan,  I  am  not  of  the  ghost-seeing  tribe," 
he  answered  very  gravely,  as  he  took  her  hand.  "  But 
I  have  seen  something  more  alarming  than  a  ghost." 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  she  asked.  "Nothing  is  the  mat- 
ter I  hope  ?  "  her  face  grave  instantly  with  sweet  solic- 
itude. 

"No,  no,"  he  answered,  and  forced  himself  to  smile. 
He  had  no  intention  to  tell  her  what  he  had  really 
seen.  "  But  it  was  a  terrible  tragedy.  Buzzing  noisily 
in  the  toils  of  a  spider's  web  was  a  large  fly,  and  the 
spider  came  down  like  a  wolf  on  the  fold  and  bent  on 
murder,  when  the  murderer  himself  was  caught  in  the 
beak  of  avenging  justice — in  the  shape  of  a  bird,  who 
gobbled  the  spider,  broke  the  web,  and  set  the  inno- 
cent fly  free." 

The  flippancy  of  his  answer  jarred  harshly  on  him, 
but  he  wanted  to  avoid  questions. 

"Are  you  never  serious,  Mr.  Dallas?"  asked  Nan 
reproachfully. 

"Just  now  I  am,  I  assure  you,"  he  replied,  with  the 
same  flippancy.  "Serious  enough  for  three  men,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  dog." 

Nan  turned  away  petulantly,   and   Dallas    walked 


Greatest  Gift.  249 

quickly  toward  the  house  with  her,  anxious  to  get  out 
of  sight  lest  Godfrey  should  see  him. 

When  they  had  gone  a  few  paces,  Nan  looked  at 
him  gravely  and  said  : 

"I  suppose  you  think  you  are  very  cleverly  hiding 
under  that  quite  unnatural  flippancy  the  fact  that  you 
have  really  had  some  kind  of  shock.  But  you  are  not 
doing  anything  of  the  kind.  I  think  it  best  to  tell  you 
that,  lest  you  might  be  tempted  to  make  the  same  mis- 
take with  other  people.  It  doesn't  impose  upon  me  one 
bit.  For  the  moment  your  manner  annoyed  me,  but — 
I  am  sorry — you  seem  in  great  trouble. " 

She  hesitated  over  the  last  sentence. 

"You  are  very  good,  Miss  Nan.  I  have  had  an  ex- 
perience which  has  upset  me.  It  is  no  trouble  of  my 
own  exactly ;  but  I  thank  you  for  what  you  say.  I 
cannot  tell  you  what  it  is — at  least  not  now." 

Nan  looked  searchingly  at  him,  and  he  thought  she 
turned  anxious. 

"  Do  you  mean  it  is  something  affecting  any  of  us  ?  " 

"  It  does  not  affect  you  directly,  Miss  Nan,"  he  re- 
plied, evading  the  question.  That  was  little  use  with 
Nan,  however. 

"  I  did  not  mean  myself,"  she  answered  ;  "  I  meant 
and  said  any  of  us.  Shall  I  mention  all  our  names?  " 
And  her  eyelids  drooped  as  if  in  subdued  mischief. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  must  say,  as  they  do  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  that  I  should  like  notice  of  that  question," 
he  answered.  "By  which  I  mean  I  will  think  over 
my  experience  before  I  speak  of  it — even  to  my  ally," 
recalling  an  old  conversation. 

"I  don't  think  we  are  allies  now,"  she  said,  shrug- 


250  £be  Greatest  <&tft» 

ging  her  shoulders  slightly,  "unless  it  be  such  an  alli- 
ance as  that  between  Martin  Chuzzlewit  and  Mark 
Tapley,  where  Martin  did  just  what  he  pleased,  and 
Mark  wasn't  allowed  to  know  or  say  anything,"  retorted 
the  girl. 

"Ah,"  said  Dallas,  "  they  were  very  much  attached 
to  one  another — and  everything  came  right  in  the  end, 
you  remember." 

"Yes,  but  not  until  Martin  had  had  that  fever,  and 
found  out  he  couldn't  do  without  Mark,"  retorted  Nan, 
thinking  more  of  the  retort  than  of  how  the  meaning 
could  be  applied  to  themselves. 

"Such  a  reward  would  not  be  dearly  earned,  even 
if  it  meant  a  fever,"  answered  Dallas;  and  then  the 
girl  blushed  and  was  silent. 

But  the  silence  lasted  only  a  minute,  for  a  train  of 
thought  w^s  set  up  which  her  companion  did  not 
follow.  She  looked  up  at  him  with  an  expression  in 
her  eyes  which  he  could  not  read. 

"I  think  I  know  whom  that  experience  of  yours 
concerns,"  she  said. 

"Whom?" 

"Mrs.  Rudyer,"  and  the  corners  of  her  mouth  showed 
the  symptoms  of  a  smile. 

"  Mrs.  Rudyer?  "  he  exclaimed. 

"Yes.  You  know,  of  course,  that  she  arrived  yes- 
terday, and  you  have  come  to  speak  to  her  about  it, 
whatever  it  is.  I'll  go  and  tell  her  you  are  here,""  and 
she  ran  into  the  house  and  left  him,  paying  no  heed  to 
his  call  to  her  not  to  go. 

He  turned  on  his  heel,  and  what  he  thought  about 
Mrs.  Rudyer  is  best  left  unmentioned.  He  remem- 


Greatest  Gift  251 

bered  that  Nan  had  thought  he  had  been  over  on  the 
preceding  Saturday  to  see  the  widow,  and  he  presumed 
that  she  was  now  of  opinion  that  he  had  come  over 
again  for  the  same  purpose. 

And  this  happened  just,  as  he  told  himself,  they  were 
getting  on  so  pleasantly.  One  resolution  he  framed 
hastily  as  the  result  of  his  former  experiences  with  her, 
and  the  misunderstandings  that  had  resulted.  He 
made  a  vow  that  no  consideration  on  earth  should  in- 
duce him  to  be  alone  in  Mrs.  Rudyer's  company. 

Plis  meditations  were  cut  short,  however,  by  the 
appearance  of  Godfrey,  who  came  up  the  drive,  look- 
ing painfully  haggard  and  ill,  and  carrying  his  dog  in 
his  arms. 

He  stopped  with  some  surprise  and  disquiet  when 
he  saw  Dallas  approaching  him. 
.    "Is  the  dog  hurt  ?  "  asked  Dallas. 

"  Yes  ;  I'm  afraid  rather  badly.  Poor  Gyp  !  "  This 
to  the  dog. 

"  How  did  it  happen  ?  " 

"  I — hardly  know.  I'm  afraid  I'm  rather  to  blame. 
I  have  had  to  beat  him  this  afternoon,  he  was  very 
disobedient.  He's  very  trying  at  times,  and  I'm  afraid 
I  hit  him  once  or  twice  rather  harder  than  I  intended. 
But — he's  got  hurt  in — in  some  way  since." 

He  hesitai^d  as  he  said  this,  and  was  confused. 

"Will  you  let  me  examine  him  ?  I  know  something 
of  the  treatment  of  dogs, "  said  Dallas,  bending  over 
him.  '•'  Why,  he  has  been  stoned,  or  kicked,  or  struck 
with  some  heavy  weapon.  See  here,"  and  he  pointed 
to  a  wound  where  the  dog's  skin  had  been  kicked  away. 
It  was  bleeding. 


252  zrbe  Greatest  (Bitt 

"  Yes,  I  saw  some  places  like  that.  Poor  Gyp,"  and 
the  faithful  beast  licked  his  hand  as  he  spoke. 

"He  knows  who  is  kind  to  him,"  said  Dallas. 
"  How  do  you  think  he  can  have  been  hurt  like  this  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  I  don't  know — I  don't  know  at  all.  Some  coward 
who  has  a  spite  against  him.  He  barks  at  some  of  the 
villagers  sometimes.  If  I  knew,  I  would  make  him 
smart.  I  didn't  know — I  thought — at  least,  it  seemed 
to  me  at  first  that  he  might  have  had  a  fall  somewhere, 
or  something  had  fallen  on  him.  Do  you  think  that 
possible?  " 

"  It  might  be  just  possible,"  answered  Dallas.  "  I 
suppose  you  couldn't  have  struck  him  harder  than  you 
intended,  and  so  have  caused  the  wound  ?  " 

"  If  I  had  I  should  have  said  so,  and  not  have  spoken 
as  though  it  were  the  work  of  somebody  else,"  an- 
swered Godfrey,  reddening  and  speaking  indignantly 
to  hide  his  dislike  of  the  question.  But  he  over-acted 
the  part.  "  I'll  take  him  round  to  the  stables.  Wigley 
will  see  to  him." 

"Do;  it's  the  least  that  can  be  done,"  answered 
Dallas,  disgusted  at  the  other's  conduct. 

"He's  ashamed  of  it,  that's  very  clear,"  he  said  as 
he  watched  Godfrey  walk  away.  ' '  But  what  a  lie  he 
told.  Is  it  a  good  or  a  bad  sign  that  he  should  be  so 
ashamed  that  he  can  lie  like  that  ?  I'm  afraid  it's  a  bad 
one,"  and  he  shook  his  head.  "  He  knows  to  what 
lengths  his  paroxysm  carried  him,  and  it's  his  cunning 
now  in  his  attempt  to  hide  it.  Phew  !  this  puts  a  nice 
light  on  the  whole  complication,  and  no  mistake." 
Then,  as  if  his  thoughts  had  taken  a  species  of  grim 


Greatest  Gift.  253 

jocosity,  he  added,  ' '  Wish  he'd  cut  the  knot  by  falling  in 
"love  with  the  widow.  By  the  way,  I  sha'n't  get  a  chance 
of  saying  a  word  about  that  mysterious  Esther  Southerst 
now.  I  think  I'd  better  keep  a  still  tongue  in  my  head 
while  he's  in  such  a  frame  of  mind  as  he  is  to-day." 

With  that  he  turned  and  went  into  the  house,  and 
finding  Margery  and  the  captain,  explained  that  being 
in  the  district  he  had  come  the  rest  of  the  way  to  make 
a  formal  afternoon  call. 

Then  Mrs.  Rudyer  came  down-stairs.  She  had  been 
most  busily  employed  in  completing  her  toilet.  She 
looked  bewitchingly  pretty  in  her  heavy  mourning, 
and  the  excitement  and  pleasure  of  seeing  Dallas  had 
given  her  a  bright  color. 

He  expressed  his  condolence  and  sympathy  in  those 
sounding  sentences  of  which  he  had  an  endless  stock 
always  at  immediate  command,  and  she  received  them 
with  as  much  becoming  solemnity  and  outward  grief 
as  was  possible,  when  her  heart  was  bounding  with  a 
secret  joy  that  she  was  free  to  think  of  him,  and  him 
only  ;  and  her  brain  was  busy  scheming  how  to  get  him 
alone  with  her  that  day. 

She  failed  to  do  this,  and  it  was  with  something  like 
consternation,  which  she  took  no  pains  to  conceal, 
that  she  saw  him  rise,  when  he  had  been  in  the  house 
about  an  hour,  and  declare  that  he  must  go  to  catch  a 
certain  train.  All  she  could  do  was  to  let  him  under- 
stand as  much  as  possible  from  the  lingering  pressure 
of  the  hand — so  long  that  he  thought  the  others  would 
observe  it — with  which  she  bade  him  good-by.  It 
vexed  him,  for  he  was  certain  that  Nan's  dark  eyes 
had  noticed  everything. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

"Mv  DEAR  HUGH, — I  wish  you  could  manage  to 
stay  with  me  from  Saturday  till  the  wedding  is  over  on 
Tuesday.  I  hear  you  were  at  the  Manor  House  this 
afternoon.  If  I  had  had  an  idea  of  this,  I  would  have 
seen  you  to  urge  you  to  this  in  person.  Try. — Yours 
ever,  "ALAN  RAMSAY." 

"DEAR  MR.  DALLAS,  I  would  say  'my  dear  Hugh,' 
but  you  would  probably  tell  me  I  was  not  discreet.  I 
did  so  want  to  get  a  word  with  you  when  you  were 
here  this  evening.  I  am  pining  for  a  chat.  I  must 
scold  you  for  not  coming  up  to  London  when  I  was 
in  trouble  and  alone.  I  think  it  so  unkind — so  unlike 
you  !  You  are  right  to  be  cautious  ;  but  there  is  no 
need  for  so  much  caution  now.  However,  I  trust  you 
so  entirely  that  I  cannot  but  agree  with  all  you  do. 
Of  course  you  will  be  here  this  week  end.  It  will  be 
such  a  comfort  to  me  to  have  you  near  me.  What  an 
ill-fated  marriage  this  promises  to  be  !  Everything 
seems  so  ominous  and  mournful.  Poor  Margery  ! 
Ah,  what  is  marriage  without  love  ?  I  am  afraid  for 
her  future.  I  know  how  blank  it  may  be.  Poor 
Margery  !  I  hope  dear  Nan's  will  be  happier.  He 
seems  a  very  amiable  fellow,  though  not,  of  course, 
brilliant.  But  she  is  such  a  clever  girl,  so  sharp  and 
observant,  and  seemingly  so  fond  of  him,  that  she  will 
254 


Greatest  (Bfft.  25* 

be  able  to  manage  him.  I  think  you  have  seen  Mr. 
Momerie,  haven't  you  ?  Is  she  not  a  lucky  girl  to  find 
some  one  so  rich  and  so  fond  of  her  ?  Do  come  on 
Saturday.  Come  as  early  as  possible.  Au  revoir. 

"  BEATRICE." 

It  would  have  been  difficult  for  Dallas,  keen  as  he 
was  at  self-analysis,  to  have  described  his  feelings  as 
he  tossed  the  last  letter  down  on  the  desk  in  front  of 
him,  and  leant  back  in  his  chair,  eyeing  it  in  grim  and 
gloomy  disdain. 

"  How  I  am  getting  to  hate  that  woman  !  "  he  mur- 
mured to  himself.  "I'm  getting  to  that  stage  that  I 
look  on  her  as  the  quintessence  of  everything  that's 
tawdry  and  veneered  and  cheap.  Yet  I  suppose  I'm 
wrong.  There  must  be  something  genuine  about  her 
of  some  kind.  There's  that  in  most  of  us  ;  but  I'll  be 
hanged  if  I  can  take  even  a  moderately  unpleasant 
view  of  her  conduct.  All  this  about  '  poor  Margery ' 
is  just  intended  as  a  back-handed  reflection  about  her- 
self and  her  marriage,  in  which,  by  some  outlandish 
female  logic,  she  believes  she  was  a  victim.  Then  'I 
hope  dear  Nan's  will  be  happier.'  That's  jealousy.  At 
least  I  hope  it  is.  I  suppose  I  may  as  well  own  it 
now  as  later  on."  This  was  spoken  as  if  it  were  an 
aside  to  himself,  and  he  smiled  then  as  if  explaining  to 
himself  what  he  really  did  mean.  "  I  mean,  that  is, 
that  I  hope  there's  reason  on  Miss  Nan's  part.  And  I 
should  like  to  be  able  to  feel  quite  clear  that  there's 
nothing  but  jealous  spite  at  the  bottom.  Pshaw  !  I 
won't  think  about  it  any  more." 

He  folded  the  letter  up  and  put  it  in  his  pocket,  and> 


256  Ube  (Breatest  Gift, 

drawing  some  paper  from  the  case,  finished  a  little 
article  which  he  had  been  engaged  upon  that  afternoon 
When  the  two  letters  had  been  brought  to  him. 

His  thoughts,  however,  were  too  distracted  for  him 
to  be  able  to  concentrate  them,  and,  having  scrambled 
through  the  writing,  he  gave  a  sigh  of  relief  when  he 
laid  down  the  pen. 

"That'll  have  to  do,"  he  said.  "Now  for  a  line  to 
Alan  to  tell  him  I'll  do  what  he  wants,  and  then  I'll 
have  a  think  about  that  scene  which  I  overlooked  yes- 
terday. I  must  do  something  at  once  to  find  that 
woman." 

He  wrote  a  hasty  note  and  was  in  the  act  of  closing 
it,  when  his  door  was  opened  and  Alan  Ramsay  him- 
self was  announced. 

"You  are  surprised  at  seeing  me,  Hugh,  "said  Alan, 
after  they  had  shaken  hands.  "  You'll  be  more  when 
I  tell  what  has  happened." 

"I  can  partly  guess  it,"  answered  Dallas,  jumping 
to  a  most  hasty  conclusion.  "Something  has  hap- 
pened to  Godfrey  Drury  to  cause  the  postponement  of 
the  marriage." 

"  Who  has  told  you  ?  Is  the  news  in  your  paper  ?  " 
asked  Alan,  in  great  astonishment. 

"  No.     It  is  only  a  guess  of  mine." 

' '  Well,  it's  made  the  feathers  fly,  first  barrel.  He's 
had  a  fall  somewhere  and  somehow,  and  he's  lying 
between  life  and  death  ;  at  least,  so  that  young  Guy 
says.  He  came  rushing  over  with  the  news ;  and  to 
keep  myself  out  of  mischief,  I  came  bowling  over  to 
you.  If  I  could  go  near  the  dear  old  captain  some  of 
'em  would  have  been  sure.to  see  how  devilish  glad  I 


6reate8t  6ift  25? 


was  to  hear  the  news.  And  yet  I  feel  all  the  time  a 
miserable  hound  for  being  glad.  But  I  can't  help  it. 
I'm  sorry  for  the  poor  chap,  of  course,  but  'tisn't  in  me 
to  say  I'm  sorry  the  match  is  off  for  a  time.  Anyway, 
I've  made  a  bolt  of  it.  But  what  on  earth  made  you 
guess  it?  " 

'  '  A  fall,  you  say  ?     Where  ?  " 

'•'I  don't  know.     Guy  didn't  say." 

"  How  was  he  found?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Oh,  yes,  I  do.  He  managed  to 
crawl  somewhere  or  other  and  give  an  alarm.  I'm  not 
sure  he  didn't  crawl  all  the  way  home.  But  I  didn't 
stop  to  ask.  But  what  are  you  looking  so  grave  and 
serious  about.  It  isn't  our  fault,  is  it,  that  a  fellow 
should  go  and  tumble  down  ?  " 

"  It's  not  your  fault,  Alan  ;  but  I'm  not  so  sure  that 
it  isn't  mine,"  answered  Dallas. 

"What  on  earth  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"That  I'm  by  no  means  convinced  that  it  was  a  fall 
that  caused  this.  I  am  more  than  half  disposed  to 
believe,  moreover,  that  I  know  the  person  by  whom 
or  through  whom  it  was  done." 

Alan  Ramsay  gazed  at  his  friend  in  astonishment. 

"Who  was  it?" 

"  Do  you  remember  that  letter  you  received  ?  " 

"I'm  not  likely  to  forget  it.     But  —  " 

"It  might  have  pointed  to  something  of  the  kind." 

"Don't,  Hugh.  Don't  go  suggesting  that  one  may 
have  been  a  party  to  anything  of  the  kind  by  keeping 
silent  about  that.  By  Jove  !  "  he  exclaimed,  with  sud- 
den spirit,  "  if  I  thought  there  was  anything  of  that 
kind  at  the  back  of  that  letter,  I'd  have  it  traced  out. 
17 


258  ttbe  Greatest  6ift. 

And  if  you  really  think  that  there's  been  foul  play  in 
this  matter,  I  won't  rest  till  I've  tracked  the  scoundrels 
down.  By  Gad,  the  very  idea  makes  my  blood  boil. 
It's  one  thing  to  believe  in  a  sort  of  gipsy's  warning  ; 
but  it's  another  to  find  one's  own  advantage  in  some- 
body else's  villainy.  Why  do  you  think  this  ?  " 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  woman  called  Esther  South- 
erst,  Alan  ?  "  asked  Dallas,  answering  his  question  with 
another. 

"  Esther  Southerst  ?     No,  who's  she  ?  " 

"Do  you  remember  of  an  attempted  suicide  atBarr- 
leigh  of  a  woman  of  that  name  four  years  ago  ? " 

"No.  I  was  away  a  lot,  then.  Up  at  Oxford  and 
gpent  the  Long  in  Germany.  Why  ?  " 

"That's  the  woman  who  wrote  you  that  letter,  or 
caused  it  to  be  written.  And  it's  she — always  a  woman, 
you  see — who's  at  the  bottom  of  this  mischief  now." 

"  I  daresay  you're  right.  You  don't  generally  speak 
in  that  deliberate  fashion  without  knowing  what  you 
say.  But  how  do  you  know  this  ?  Because  it's  a  devil 
of  a  charge  to  bring  against  any  one.  Judging  by  what 
young  Guy  says,  it's  attempted  murder." 

"Aye;  but  Godfrey  says  he  has  only  had  a  fall, 
don't  you  see  ?  "  returned  Dallas. 

"I  wish  you'd  out  with  what  you  know,  Hugh. 
I'm  hanged  if  I  understand  what  you're  driving  into  at 
present." 

"  Morally,  I'm  certain  ;  but  I've  very  little  proof. 
Some  one,  who  I  have  reason  to  think  is  Esther  South- 
erst  herself,  has  written  to  me,  to  you,  and  to  Miss 
Allingham,  and  to  some  one  else — I  can't  say  whom — > 
about  this  marriage.  To  me  she  hinted  it  was  a  crime, 


Greatest  (Bftt  259 

and  that  as  a  public  man — a  common  mistake — I  was 
bound  to  seek  to  prevent  the  marriage  ;  to  you  she 
said  the  marriage  would  never  take  place  ;  Miss  Ailing- 
ham  she  charged  with  intending  to  marry  young  Drury 
for  money,  while  hiding  the  fact  of  her  love  for  you, 
and  the  marriage  was  spoken  of  as  a  sin.  In  all  the 
letters  the  writer  has  shown  a  considerable  acquaint- 
ance with  our  movements,  especially  mine ;  and  you 
will  see  that  while  two  of  the  letters  prove  the  great 
antipathy  to  the  marriage,  that  to  you  shows  a  confi- 
dent determination  to  be  able  to  prevent  it.  In  later 
letters  I  am  upbraided  for  having  done  nothing  to  stop 
it,  and  am  warned  that  the  consequences  will  be 
on  my  head.  That  was  why  I  guessed  the  news 
you  brought  to-day.  I  take  this  to  be  the  conse- 
quences.'' 

"And  knowing  all  this,  you  have  done  nothing, 
Hugh  ?  "  asked  Alan. 

"I  have  done  nothing.  What  could  I  do  ?  "  replied 
Dallas,  looking  up. 

"Couldn't  you  see  this  woman — what  is  her  name — 
Southerst  ? " 

"  How  could  I  find  her?  I  asked  her  to  communi- 
cate with  me.  That  is,  I  put  a  notice  in  the  paper, 
which  she  saw.  But  she  refused  to  come.  You  know 
the  position  of  things  at  the  Manor  House  about  this 
marriage.  What  would  have  been  my  outlook  if  I  had 
tried  to  do  anything  on  the  strength  of  one  or  two 
anonymous  letters  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  understand  that,"  said  Alan.  "But  where 
does  she  write  from  ?  " 

"Each  time  and  each  letter  from  different  places." 


260  tibe  Greatest  Gift. 

"Yet  you  say  you  have  been  uncomfortable?  " 

"I  do  ;  I've  an  uneasy  feeling  that  I  ought  to  have 
done  something ;  and  yet  I've  answered  my  own 
thoughts  just  as  I've  answered  yours ;  and  I  see  no 
reason  to  blame  myself — save  one." 

"  What's  that  ?" 

"A  certain  line  of  investigation  I  might  perhaps 
have  taken  and  didn't.  But  I  hate  acting  on  such  a 
flimsy  ground  as  an  anonymous  letter.  In  fact,  I  can't 
do  it.  But  now,  of  course,  it's  different." 

"If  this  was  no  fall,  you  mean  ? '' 

"  Yes.  We  must  find  that  woman,  and  hear  what 
she  has  to  say.  It  is  from  her  we  must  get  the  reason 
why  young  Drury  is  content  to  call  this  accident  a 
fall.  That's  where  these  two  threads  join,"  said 
Dallas. 

"  If  you  could  not  do  it  before,  how  will  you  do  it 
now  ?  " 

"Probably  the  writer  will  be  over-confident  after 
this  business.  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  I  were  to 
hear  from  her. " 

"Well,  I  hope  she  won't  give  much  trouble,  for  I 
suppose  your  hands  will  be  very  full.  I  forgot,  in  the 
excitement  of  the  other  matter,  I  ought  to  have  con- 
gratulated you — although  I  suppose  it  is  scarcely  made 
public  yet.  I  understood  that,  of  course.  But  you 
kept  the  whole  thing  awfully  close.  It  came  like  a 
thunder-clap  to  me.  But  she's  a  jolly,  cheerful  little 
soul." 

"  What  on  earth  are  you  driving  at,  Alan  ?  "  asked 
Hugh  Dallas. 

"Oh,   ah,    of  course.     You  don't  know,  do  you?" 


Ube  Greatest  (Btft.  sei 

laughed  Alan.  "  Oh,  no ;  you're  an  innocent.  You 
might  have  told  me,  old  man." 

"  Probably  I  should  have  done  if  I  myself  had  only 
known.  But  just  tell  me  in  plain  language  what  it  is 
that  you  think  you  ought  to  congratulate  me  about. 
Seriously,"  he  said,  seeing  that  Alan  was  going  to  chaff 
him  again. 

"Why,  what  should  it  be  but  about  the  tacit  re- 
newal of  your  old  engagement  to  the  pretty  widow  ? 
Don  told  me,  and  he  had  it  from  Guy,  who  took  it 
from  Nan,  who  received  it  from  Margery,  to  whom  it 
was  imparted  by  the  widow  herself.  At  least,  so  I 
trace  it. " 

' '  This  is  getting  interesting. "  said  Dallas,  with  a  grim 
kind  of  smile.  "Just  let's  have  that  again.  You  have 
heard  that  Mrs.  Rudyer  has  been  good  enough  to  say 
that  an  old  engagement  between  us  has  been  tacitly 
renewed.  Is  that  it  ?  " 

"That's  about  the  size  of  it,  as  I  understand,"  re- 
turned Alan  Ramsay,  smiling.  "  I  didn't  even  know 
you'd  been  engaged  to  her  once,  let  alone  twice." 

"She's  a  clever  little  woman,"  said  Dallas  crisply. 

"  She  is  that,  and  a  bright  little  thing,  too.  I  like 
her." 

"And  daring,  too — devilish  daring." 

"Yes,  I  should  think  she's  plucky  enough,"  said 
Alan,  puzzled  by  his  friend's  manner. 

"Man,  but  she's  an  awful  liar,"  exclaimed  Dallas, 
with  such  emphasis  that  Alan  started. 

"  Hugh  !" 

' '  She  is.  I'm  no  more  engaged  to  marry  her  than 
I  am  to  marry  you," 


263  Ufee  Greatest  0itt» 

"  But  have  you  never  been  engaged  to  her  then  ?  " 

"That's  an  old  matter,  and  as  dead  as  a  bit  of  old 
slag.  She  knows  it,  too,  well  enough." 

"Well,  but—" 

"What  is  she  driving  at,  you  mean  ?  That's  noth- 
ing to  me.  You  can  take  it  from  me  that — But  wait 
a  minute." 

He  stopped  suddenly,  and,  pushing  his  chair  back 
vigorously,  took  two  or  three  hasty  turns  up  and  down 
the  room.  Then  he  sat  down  again  and  laughed,  and 
resumed  in  his  natural  manner  : 

"I'm  sorry  I  spoke  like  that.     I  was  excited." 

His  thoughts  had  flown  rapidly  to  the  probable 
effects  of  the  news  on  Nan,  and  this  had  moved  him 
so  much. 

"  I  think  there  must  be  a  mistake.  The  news  must 
have  grown  on  its  way  to  you.  Those  lads  may  have 
done  it.  I  can't  think  that  Mrs.  Rudyer  would  say 
this.  I  don't  think  it.  At  any  rate,  you  may  take  it 
from  me  that  there  is  no  foundation  whatever  for  any- 
thing of  the  kind — none  whatever,"  he  repeated. 

"Premature  ?  "  asked  Alan,  raising  his  eyebrows. 

"No.     Impossible,"  returned  Dallas  firmly. 

"Then  I  should  think  Don  or  Guy  have  mixed 
things  up,  or  the  girls  have.  Because  one  of  them  said 
they  weren't  a  bit  surprised  at  the  news.  I  think  it 
was  Nan." 

Hugh  Dallas  colored  with  vexation  at  hearing  this. 

"  Don't  blush,  old  man,  you're  too  old  for  that, "said 
Alan,  with  a  light  laugh. 

And  the  elder  man  found  the  remark  exceedingly 
unpalatable,  but  handled  it  skilfully. 


Ube  ereatest  (Bfft  263 

"  My  color  is  for  the  lady's  sake,  not  my  own.  I  am 
very  sorry  she  should  be  placed  in  so  awkward  a 
position.  But  I  shall* be  glad  if  you'll  contradict  the 
thing. " 

"  All  right ;  I'll  tell  Don,  and  it'll  soon  travel  back 
well  garnished.  It's  rather  a  baddish  how-d'ye-do  for 
the  widow.  Sorry  for  her,  and  sorry  for  you  as  well, 
Hugh.  I  fancy  she'd  make  a  fellow  a  good  wife." 

"Thanks,  I  always  was  unlucky,"  and  Dallas  laughed 
irritably. 

He  was  annoyed — utterly  without  reason  or  com- 
mon sense  ;  but  nevertheless  distinctly  annoyed  that 
Alan  should  be  so  completely  blind  to  the  other  pos- 
sibilities as  to  be  able  to  suggest  such  a  match  seri- 
ously. 

This  feeling  of  annoyance  was  the  chief  effect  left 
upon  his  mind  at  the  close  of  the  day,  when  Alan  had 
gone  home,  and  Dallas  sat  in  his  own  room  thinking 
over  the  conversation.  It  was  supremely  irritating 
and  galling  that  such  a  rumor  should  ever  have  been 
started  about  him.  Still,  it  could  all  be  explained  away. 
But  that  Alan  should  have  thought  it  a  natural  thing, 
and  should  not  have  had  any  other  possibility  in  his 
thoughts,  seemed  to  reveal  to  him,  more  than  any- 
thing had  done,  what  a — what  a  fool  he  was  likely  to 
be  for  his  pains. 

Alan's  indifference  was  worse  even  than  that  little 
sentence  about  Nan  herself  having  said  she  "  was  not 
surprised."  She  might  say  that,  and  not  mean  it,  he 
thought  ;  but  Alan  had  meant  what  he  said  as  a  gen- 
uine expression  of  friendly  feeling. 

And  neither  Alan's   troubles,  nor  the  mystery  about 


264  trbe  Greatest  (Bift 

Esther  Southerst,  had  much  of  Dallas's  attention  dur- 
ing that  evening  ;  for  he  was  busy  in  web  spinning', 
and  wondering  how  Mrs.  Rudyer  could  have  had  the 
"nerve"  to  start  such  a  rumor,  and  how  he  would 
ever  summon  up  courage  enough  to  go  over  any  more 
to  the  Manor  House. 

And  what  sort  of  a  reception  would  he  get  from 
Nan  ?  he  asked  himself.  It  interested  him  especially 
to  try  and  answer  this  question  in  imagination,  though 
most  of  his  thought  pictures  made  the  reception  un- 
favorable. 

The  next  morning,  however,  his  attention  went  back 
with  a  bound  to  Esther  Southerst. 

There  was  a  letter  from  her  : 

"You  see  the  consequences  of  your  doing  nothing. 
What  has  happened  to  G.  D.  is  my  work.  You  had 
better  act  while  there  is  time.  ONE  WHO  KNOWS. 

He  thought  a  moment,  and  then  rang  his  bell. 

"Send  Mr.   Pickering  to  me." 

This  was  a  young,  energetic,  clever,  shrewd  re- 
porter who  had  been  under  Hugh  Dallas  some  years. 

"  Pickering,  I  have  a  private  matter  of  great  urgency 
I  want  looked  into.  It  is  not  a  matter  for  the  paper  ; 
but  it  will  give  you  a  chance  of  doing  what  American 
reporters  like.  I  have  had  one  or  two  letters  from  an 
anonymous  correspondent,  and  I  want  to  trace  the 
writer.  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  it  is  a  woman," 
and  he  said  how  the  report  of  the  attempted  suicide 
had  described  her  and  gave  her  name.  "She  was 
yesterday  at  Seacove,  or  near  there,  and  posted  a  letter 


ttbe  Greatest  Gift  365 

to  me  from  there.  Here  is  the  envelope.  I  want  that 
woman  traced.  Do  you  think  you  can  do  it?  I 
would  go  myself,  but  I  am  tied  here." 

"  Is  there  any  reason  why  she  should  keep  out  of 
the  way  ?  "  asked  the  young  fellow.  ' '  And  does  she 
live  at  this  place  ?  " 

"I  don't  know  where  she  lives  :  but  any  questions 
you  ask  there  must  be  put  with  great  caution.  I  know 
of  no  reason  why  she  should  hide  ;  but  she  does  hide, 
because  I  asked  her  in  a  notice  to  communicate,  and 
she  would  not,  though  she  saw  the  notice." 

"I  think  I  can  find  her  at  such  a  place  as  Seacove. 
At  any  rate,  I  can  try.  I'll  go  by  the  first  train." 

"And  say  nothing,  Pickering." 

"Not  a  word,"  he  replied,  as  he  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

SATURDAY  morning'  brought  a  letter  from  Captain 
Drury,  short  and  to  the  point,  asking  Hugh  Dallas 
not  to  put  off  his  visit  on  account  of  Godfrey's  acci- 
dent. 

"  We  shall  be  glad  to  see  you,  and,  moreover,  glad 
to  congratulate  you." 

"  Confound  that  woman,"  was  Dallas's  underbreath 
comment  when  he  read  the  last  line.  "It's  the  most 
wretched  mess  she  could  have  put  me  into.  It'll  be 
such  an  awkward  business  for  her  if  I  accuse  her  of 
trying  to  inveigle  me  into  an  engagement  before  even 
the  mould  has  settled  down  on  her  husband's  coffin. 
And  there,  she's  so  preposterously  pretty  and  artless 
that  no  one  will  think  she  could  have  done  it  pur- 
posely ;  and  yet,  if  she's  supposed  to  have  made  a 
mistake,  naturally  enough  everybody  will  jump  to  the 
conclusion  that  I've  said  enough  to  her  to  lead  her 
to  make  it.  And  it's  so  infernally  ridiculous." 

Here  he  burst  into  a  laugh,  despite  his  vexation. 

"What  a  fool  I  shall  feel  when  I  get  over  there. 
But  I  must  face  it.  And  then,  hang  it,  there's  the  old 
engagerrient  to  give  it  color.  She's  an  artful  mixture 
of*  recklessness  and  fooling,  and  no  mistake.  I 
shouldn't  care  so  much  if  it  weren't  for  the  ridicule  of 
the  thing.  By  the  way,  I  must  put  that  notice  in. 
Sorry  Pickering  could  do  nothing." 
266 


Ube  Greatest  Gift  26? 

The  reporter  had  failed  to  find  any  trace  of  Esther 
Southerst,  and  Dallas  had  accordingly  determined  to 
try  and  draw  his  correspondent  again  with  a  notice  to 
the  effect  that  the  matter  was  to  be  carried  forward, 
but  some  necessary  information  must  be  forthcoming, 
and  "One  Who  knows"  must  communicate. 

During  the  journey  to-  Seacove  Hugh  Dallas  was 
very  thoughtful,  trying  to  decide  the  best  plan  to  adopt 
in  regard  to  what  Mrs.  Rudyer  had  apparently  said 
about  him,  and  he  decided  that  the  frankest  as  well  as 
the  wisest  course  would  be  to  see  Mrs.  Rudyer  her- 
self, if  possible,  before  he  saw  any  of  the  others,  and 
leave  it  for  her  to  put  things  right.  But  matters  did 
not  go  all  as  he  wished,  for  the  first  persons  he  saw 
as  the  train  drew  up  at  the  platform  was  the  captain, 
steadily  scanning  the  carriages,  while  Nan  was  by  his 
side  clasping  his  arm  tightly. 

"Pity  Mrs.  Rudyer  isn't  here  as  well,"  muttered 
Dallas  grimly.  "Would  have  given  a  finish  to 
things." 

He  tried  to  be  perfectly  natural  in  his  greeting  ;  but 
he  could  not  help  a  feeling  of  uneasiness  and  nervous- 
ness, and  found  himself  waiting  with  a  most  discon- 
certing apprehension  for  the  subject  to  be  introduced. 

"How  is  Mr.  Godfrey  ?"  asked  Hugh,  after  they 
had  shaken  hands,  Nan  showing  considerable  coldness, 
and  being  distant  in  her  manner. 

"Much  better — wonderfully  better,  so  far  as  the 
actual  hurt  is  concerned  ;  but  the  shock  has  unsettled 
him  grievously,  grievously,"  answered  the  captain. 

"  How  did  it  happen  ?  " 

'•Well,  we  are  no:  '  uite  clear.     Of  course  one  can 


268  ttbe  tfteatest 

understand  how  Godfrey  might  be  confused  in  his  recol- 
lection. All  he  seems  to  remember  is  that  he  was 
walking  along  the  cliff;  but  whether  he  tripped,  or 
overbalanced,  or  whatever  the  cause  may  have  been, 
he  doesn't  recollect  at  all.  He  only  remembers  com- 
ing to  himself  afterwards,  and  managing  to  crawl  till 
he  got  assistance." 

"What  time  was  it?  How  came  he  to  be  at  the 
place  ?  " 

As  Dallas  asked  this,  he  caught  a  look — swift,  keen, 
and  inquiring — which  flashed  out  from  Nan's  eyes. 
She  was  walking  on  the  other  side  of  the  captain,  and 
she  bent  a  little  forward. 

"  He  was  only  walking,  I  presume,"  answered  the 
captain.  "Poor  Godfrey!  He  is  so  upset  by  the 
shock  that  he  seems  dazed  yet,  and  scarce  knows  what 
he  says,  and  certainly  has  no  clear  recollection  of 
what  happened." 

The  captain  sighed  heavily,  for  this  part  of  his  son's 
illness  distressed  and  alarmed  him  most. 

"Does  he  know  I  am  coming  over?  " 

"Yes,  and  he  wishes  to  see  you."  And  again  Nan 
leant  forward  and  looked  at  Dallas.  But  the  captain 
did  not  observe  this,  and  continued,  laughing,  "I 
suppose  he  wants  to  see  you  for  the  same  reason  as 
we  do ;  eh,  Nan  ?  "  And  he  turned  to  the  girl  and 
chuckled. 

"Here  it  comes,"  thought  Dallas,  and  made  haste 
to  fend  it  off. 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  see  him.  I'm  delighted  to  hear 
that  he  is  better.  Of  course  the  shock  is  certain  to  be 
severe." 


Ube  Creates!  6ift.  269 

"  See  how  he  turns  it  off,  Nan,  eh  ?  "  laughed  Cap- 
tain Drury.  "Yet  he's  not  the  man  to  be  ashamed 
of  what  anybody  might  consider  an  honor.  Mr. 
Dallas,  I  hope  you  will  be  happy  ;  I  do  with  all  my 
heart." 

And  the  captain  held  out  his  hand,  causing  Nan, 
who  was  at  his  right,  to  loosen  her  clasp  of  his  arm. 

"  Thank  you  ;  but — I  think  there — " 

"Yes,  yes,  we  know  all  about  it;  don't  we,  Nan? 
You're  quite  right,  both  of  you,  considering  all  past 
matters.  Of  course  nothing  can  be  said  publicly. 
But  I  hope  we're  friends  ;  eh,  Nan  ?  I  want  certainly 
to  think  of  you  as  one  of  my  best  friends  ;  and  as  for 
Mrs.  Rudyer,  why,  isn't  she  Madge's  oldest  school 
friend?  Now,  Nan,  what  do  you  say?" 

"Mr.  Dallas  knows  my  opinion  of  Mrs.  Rudyer; 
he  has  taken  care  to  get  that  beforehand,"  answered 
Nan,  with  calm,  smiling  sarcasm.  "Two  people  so 
thoroughly  suited  ought  to  be  happy." 

"  I  think  I  can  understand  your  good  wishes — both 
of  you,"  answered  Dallas,  looking  pointedly  at  Nan, 
who  blushed  very  slightly  and  turned  away.  "I 
heard  something  of  this  from  Alan,  who  was  over  in 
Middlingham  in  the  week.  But  there  has  been  some 
little  misapprehension,  and  you  must  not  give  me  your 
congratulations." 

His  manner  was  very  stiff  and  nervous,  and,  as  he 
felt,  altogether  unsatisfactory.  But  he  could  not  bring 
himself  to  put  Mrs.  Rudyer's  conduct  in  the  exceed- 
ingly unpleasant  light  in  which  it  must  appear  if  the 
truth  were  told.  He  would  see  her  first,  whatever  the 
consequences  to  himself. 


370  tCbe  Greatest  Gift. 

His  two  hearers  noticed  his  manner,  and  interpreted 
it  quite  differently. 

"All  right,  all  right,  my  lad,  I  understand,"  said  the 
captain  knowingly.  "  Premature,  eh  ?  Too  soon  after 
poor  Mr.  Rudyer's  death.  Yes,  yes,  I  understand ;  let 
it  be  as  you  like."  ' 

Nan  said  nothing ;  but  when  Dallas  glanced,  as  he 
did  almost  eagerly,  in  her  direction,  he  noticed  her 
lip  curl  as  if  she  were  less  puzzled  than  indifferent  or 
contemptuous.  And  it  made  him  very  uncomfortable. 
To  make  matters  worse,  they  met  the  widow  in  the 
grounds,  looking  bewitchingly  pretty  and  innocent, 
and  with  a  warm  light  brightening  her  eyes  at  sight 
of  Dallas.  She  was  evidently  prepared  for  the  struggle, 
for  as  soon  as  she  caught  sight  of  the  three  she  hastened 
to  them,  and  holding  out  both  her  hands,  went  up  to 
Dallas. 

"Ah,  Hugh,  I  am  glad  you  are  come.  I  am  so 
sorry  I  could  not  get  to  the  station." 

And  the  expression  in  her  eyes  changed,  as  she 
looked  right  into  his,  as  if  to  challenge  him  to  disavow 
the  relationship  she  had  invented. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Rudyer?"  he  answered, 
calmly  and  rather  sternly,  while  he  held  out  only  one 
hand. 

"Cautious  Hugh,"  she  said,  unabashed.  "  But  you 
are  right.  I  am  always  wrong  when  I  trust  my  im- 
petuous feelings,  captain,"  she  cried,  with  a  laugh  and 
a  blush,  turning  to  Captain  Drury.  "And  then  I  get 
scolded.  I  am  sorry,"  she  said,  turning  again  to 
Dallas,  and  speaking  less  excitedly. 

"I  must   run   in   to   Godfrey,"   said   the   captain. 


Greatest  oat  271 

"But  I  know  you'll  excuse  me,"  he  added,  laughing 
slyly.  "  Come  along,  Nan." 

"  Thanks ;  you  are  very  good,  captain.  Yes,  I 
have  something  I  want  to  say  to  Mrs.  Rudyer." 

The  two  turned  back,  Nan  going  with  the  captain 
without  taking  the  slightest  notice  of  them. 

Mrs.  Rudyer  was  just  a  little  pale,  and  she  bit  her 
lip  and  wrinkled  her  forehead  thoughtfully  as  she 
waited  for  what  she  knew  was  to  be  a  struggle.  Find- 
ing Hugh  was  silent  longer  than  she  expected,  she 
determined  to  strike  the  first  blow. 

"Well,  Hugh,  have  you  nothing  kind  to  say  to  me 
now  we  are  alone  ?  Have  I  not  managed  splendidly 
to  smooth  matters  like  this?  " 

"What  does  all  this  tomfoolery  mean?"  asked 
Dallas  in  reply,  speaking  very  sternly. 

"Tomfoolery,  Hugh.  What  an  extraordinary  term, 
dear  !  " 

"It's  used  to  describe  an  extraordinary  act.  But 
we  have  no  need  to  play  with  words.  Will  you  please 
tell  me  what  you  have  told  the  people  here  about 
me  ? " 

"  I  have  told  them  what  a  good  fellow  you  are,"  re- 
plied the  widow  with  a  light  laugh,  "  and  always 
were  ;  and  how  clever  you  are  in  your  work  ;  and 
what  beautiful  articles — " 

"Thank  you/'  interrupted  Dallas.  "I  have  not 
asked  that.  What  have  you  said  that  leads  them  to 
couple  my  name  with  yours,  and  to  offer  me  con- 
gratulations ?  " 

"Do  they  do  that?"  she  asked,  with  the  smile  of  a 
pleased  child. 


272  ZTbe  Greatest  Gift 

Dallas  coughed,  and  turned  away. 

"When  Alan  Ramsay  came  over  to  Middlingham  to 
me  during  the  week,  he  said  that  you  had  told  the 
people  here  that  you  and  I  were  engaged  to  be  mar- 
ried. Is  that  so  ? " 

"You  know  well  enough  it  was,  Hugh,"  she  replied, 
purposely  misunderstanding  him,  and  opening  her 
large  eyes  reproachfully  at  him. 

' '  He  said  that  you  have  led  them  to  think  we  are 
engaged  now.  Have  you  done  that?" 

"  People  do  jump  to  conclusions  so,"  she  laughed. 

' '  I  wish  you  would  be  serious,  Mrs.  Rudyer.  This 
is  a  very  grave  matter  to  me." 

"You  look  it."  She  glanced  up  merrily  at  him,  and 
then  added,  "  Dear  old  serious  Hugh!  Just  like  you 
used  to  look.  Ah,  the  happy  old  days  !  "  and  she  sighed. 

"I  want  you  to  be  good  enough  to  think  of  the 
present.  The  past  is  dead — " 

"Not  to  me,  Hugh  ;  and  it  never,  never  will  be." 

He  began  to  think  he  was  getting  the  worst  of  it. 

"  Will  you  now  tell  me,  if  you  please,  what  you 
have  said  to  these  people  to  make  them  think  we  are 
engaged?  " 

"I  have  told  them  how  much  I  admire  you  ;  and  I 
think  I  have  told  Margery  more  than  that ;  how  sweet 
the  old  days  used  to  be  to  us  both ;  and  how  an  un- 
fortunate misunderstanding  parted  us  ;  and  how  doubly 
dear  is  the  joy  of  reconciliation.  Ah,  Hugh  !  "  she 
cried,  with  sudden  feeling,  clinging  to  his  arm,  and 
looking  up  lovingly  into  his  face,  "don't  be  cross 
with  me.  My  heart  was  so  full,  I  couldn't  help  letting 
others  see  what  I  felt," 


Ube  Greatest  Gift.  273 

"You  have  told  them  that  we  are  reconciled  in  the 
sense  of  being  re-engaged,  have  you  ? "  he  asked,  re- 
moving her  hands  from  his  arm. 

"  I  have  told  them  the  greatest  grief  of  my  life  was 
when  you  and  I  were  parted,"  she  said,  in  low,  trem- 
bling tones,  while  tears  filled  her  eyes.  "And  that  is 
true,  as  true  as — as  my  feeling  for  you." 

The  sight  of  her  tears  touched  him,  despite  his  an- 
ger. She  knew  this. 

"  Do  you  not  see  that  you  have  placed  yourself  in  a 
very  false  position  ?  Surely  you  do."  He  spoke  very 
kindly.  "You  have  led  these  people  to  think  that  we 
are  engaged." 

"  Not  engaged,"  she  said,  her  lips  trembling. 

"Well,  reconciled  with  a  view  to  an  engagement," 
he  corrected. 

"Well?  "  She  said  this  after  a  pause,  and  turned  to 
look  at  him  through  her  gathered  tears,  as  if  astonished 
that  he  should  be  surprised  at  her  having  done  so. 

He  was  going  to  speak  again,  when  the  full  mean- 
ing of  her  look  flashed  upon  him,  and  startled  him  into 
silence. 

"Are we  not  reconciled?"  she  asked,  in  low,  trem- 
bling accents. 

"  We  are  reconciled,"  he  answered  ;  and  the  realiza- 
tion of  her  meaning  hardened  him,  and  made  his  man- 
ner cold  and  stern.  "But  only  as  acquaintances. 
We  are  not  even  friends.  We  have  met  by  chance 
under  the  roof  of  mutual  friends,  and  courtesy  has 
made  it  impossible  for  us  to  be  strangers.  That  is 
all." 

"  Don't  speak  so  coldly,"  she  answered,  shuddering, 
18 


274  Ube  Greatest  6ift. 

her  tears  now  flowing  freely,  and  her  emotion  seem- 
ing to  pass  suddenly  beyond  her  control.  "Your 
words  are  like  biting  acid  on  a  wound.  For  heaven's 
sake,  have  some  pity,  and  remember  I  have  loved  you 
all  my  life.  You  are  all  that  is  dear  to  me  in  the  world. 
Take  me  to  your  heart,  Hugh.  Try,  try  to  warm  my 
life." 

She  clung  to  him  again. 

"There  must  be  an  end  to  this,"  he  said,  trying  to 
remove  her  hands  from  him,  but  in  vain. 

"No,  no  ;  there  can  be  no  end  to  my  love  but  the 
end  of  my  life.  No,  Hugh,  Hugh,  you  shall  not  put 
me  away  from  you.  You  shall  not, "and  she  bent  for- 
ward and  kissed  his  hand. 

"  Mrs.  Rudyer,  you  forget  yourself — "  he  began. 

"No,  no,  I  do  not.  I  care  nothing  for  myself — 
nothing.  I  can  forget  everything  except  that  I  love 
you.  I  cannot  live  without  you.  I  swear  I  cannot. 
I  will  kill  myself  if  you  put  me  away  now.  I  am 
yours,  body,  soul,  and  spirit.  I  care  for  nothing  else, 
my  darling,  my  darling."  Then  she  burst  into  a  fit  of 
hysterical  weeping  and  seemed  about  to  fall. 

Dallas  put  out  his  arm  to  save  her,  and  she  nestled 
close  to  him  at  once,  and  laid  her  face  on  his  heart. 

"Ah,  that  is  heaven  !  "  and  she  smiled  at  him  and 
added,  "  I  knew  you  could  not  be  hard  to  me  for  long. 
My  darling  !  " 

At  that  moment,  chancing  to  glance  round  him, 
Dallas  was  surprised  and  annoyed  to  find  that  the  spot 
where  they  stood,  though  some  distance  from  the 
house,  was  yet  in  full  view  of  some  of  the  upper  win- 
dows ;  and  he  thought  he  could  see  some  one  looking 


Ube  Greatest  (frift.  2*5 

in  their  direction.  His  fancy  made  him  take  this  to 
be  Nan,  and  the  thought  hardened  him  infinitely 
against  the  woman  at  his  side,  and  put  an  end  to  the 
momentary  irresolution  which  had  seized  him  as  to  the 
best  means  of  dealing  with  her. 

The  whole  thought  had  barely  occupied  an  instant 
of  time  and  did  not  suffice  to  make  the  pause  ap- 
parent. 

With  a  quick  movement  he  put  her  away  from  him. 

"  This  farce  must  end,"  he  said,  very  sternly  and 
angrily.  "You  have  always  had  your  feelings  under 
excellent  control,  I  know  ;  but  you  will  please  to  un- 
derstand that  this  display  is  quite  superfluous.  You 
know  perfectly  well  that  I  have  not  only  never  given 
you  the  slightest  occasion  to  believe  that  whatever  I 
was  mad  enough  to  feel  for  you  once  survives  now, 
but  that  I  have  made  it  distinct  and  plain  to  you  that 
the  opposite  was  the  case.  You  will  then  be  good 
enough  to  undeceive  these  people.  You  m^y  choose 
your  own  way  to  do  this,  provided  it  be  done  thor- 
oughly and  at  once.  Do  you  hear? " 

He  asked  the  last  question,  finding  she  made  no 
reply. 

She  stood  a  little  apart  from  him  with  her  head  bent 
and  her  face  hidden.  Without  turning  she  asked  : 

"  Is  this  the  answer  to  the  offer  of  my  love,  Hugh  ?  " 

"  It  is  my  reply  to  your  late  demonstration, "  he  said. 

Another  pause  followed,  in  which  she  seemed  to  be 
fighting  down  her  emotions.  Then  she  turned  and 
looked  at  him  ;  and  all  the  signs  of  her  tears  had  gone, 
while  her  cheeks  burned  with  color  and  her  eyes  glowed 
with  a  bright  lustre. 


2?6  tTbe  Greatest  <Wft. 

"You  wish  me  to  tell  these  people  that  we  are  not 
engaged — yet  ?  "  she  asked. 

' "  You  will  tell  them  what  you  please,  so  long  as  you 
make  it  plain  that  our  relations  are — what  they  are." 

"I  have  done  that,"  she  answered,  "and  yet  you 
are  not  satisfied.  They  have  only  drawn  the  inference 
from  my  words  which  you  wished  me  to  draw  from 
your  conduct,"  her  voice  here  was  just  a  trifle  unsteady. 

"What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  That  you  have  wished  me  to  understand  that  our 
recomciliation  is-  but  a  step  to  our  re-engagement, 
Hugh.  I  interpreted  it  so  ;  and  I  could  not  do  other- 
wise." 

"Then  the  sooner  you  do  so  now  the  better,"  he 
said  harshly. 

"  I  cannot  do  that ;  I  will  not  do  it.  I  will  not  give 
you  up.  I  have  told  these  people  no  more  than  the 
truth." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you   regard  me — "  he  began. 

"  I  mean  that  I  hold  you  to  be  my  affianced  husband, 
and  no  power  on  this  earth  shall  ever  keep  you  from 
me.  You  were  mine  years  ago,  and  you  are  mine  now. 
I  am  reckless — utterly  reckless.  All  the  world  may 
see  my  feelings  for  you  as  all  may  know  we  were 
once  plighted  lovers.  You  don't  seem  to  have  counted 
the  cost  of  trying  to  thrust  aside  a  desperate  woman 
mad  with  love  of  you.  You  shall  see  what  it  means." 

"  I  think  I  see  something  of  what  it  means  now  in 
this." 

"  You  may.  I  care  not.  I  have  only  done  here 
what  I  will  do  always  and  everywhere — asserted  my 
claim.  While  the  man  whom  I  married  while  loving 


Ube  Greatest  (Bift.  m 

you  was  alive,  I  kept  from  you  as  long  as  I  could  ;  but 
my  truth  was  getting  strained  and  wearing  thin  at  the 
close.  We  met ;  and  you  thought  to  be  cold  and 
prudent  and  common-sense.  But  it  could  not  be  that 
with  us.  You  thought  to  part  us  by  using-  my  husband  ; 
but  what  you  did  only  brought  us  closer  together. 
You  killed  him." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"I  mean  that  in  this  practical,  prosaic,  dull,  pro- 
priety age,  you  are  bound  to  me,  first  by  love  and  now 
by  death."  She  laughed  as  she- said  this.  "  You  said 
to  him  your  only  wish  was  never  to  see  me  again. 
He  told  me,  and  when  I  heard  it,  the  words  drove  me 
mad  with  jealous  hate  of  him  for  having  come  between 
us,  and  I  told  him  all — everything  that  had  overpassed 
between  us.  Why  say  more  ?  Within  a  few  hours  he 
was  dead.  Now  you  know  how  he  came  to  die  sud- 
denly. If  you  had  come  when  I  wired  and  wrote  to 
you,  you  would  have  learnt  it  all  then.  No,  I  didn't 
kill  him,  if  that's  what  you  mean  by  that  look.  He 
died  at  peace  with  me  ;  and  told  me  he  had  long 
known  he  had  not  had  my  love.  He  had  been  acting 
a  part  just  as  I  had ;  but  with  what  people  would  call 
a  better  motive,  I  suppose.  Now  you  see  one  reason 
why  I  hold  you  bound  to  me  so  closely  that  I  will  not 
give  you  up." 

"I  told  Mr.   Rudyer  the  truth,"  said  Dallas  coldly. 

"Yes,  I  know,  because  you  are  a  man  of  honor, 
and  could  say  nothing  else — then.  Now,  it  is  all 
changed.  Well,  you  would  not  come  to  me,  so  I  came 
to  you.  I  thought — shall  I  tell  you  what  I  thought  ? 
Do  you  remember  your  promise  not  to  flirt  with  that 


aw  tTbe  Greatest  <Wft 

girl  here  ?  Ah,  then  you  will  understand  why,  when 
I  found  you  avoided  me,  I  took  measures  to  check 
any  mistaken  ideas  that  you  were  free.  I  thought  you 
meant  by  our  reconciliation  that  we  should  be  re- 
engaged as  soon  as  Mrs.  Grundy  would  permit,  and 
I  said  so.  You  like  frankness,  I  know,  from  the  old 
time,  and  so  I  have  been  frank." 

"Yes,  you  have  been  frank  enough.  I  will  be 
equally  plain  with  you.  Since  you  will  not  tell  these 
people  that  the  real  relations  between  us  are  those  of 
acquaintances,  one  of  whom  is  dismayed  at  the 
other's  want  of  common  decency,  I  will  do  so,"  said 
Dallas,  with  hard,  direct  bluntness. 

The  widow  looked  in  his  face  for  an  instant,  and 
then  burst  into  laughter. 

"What  a  child  you  are,  Hugh,  after  all.  Do  you 
think  for  a  moment  that  they  will  believe  you  against 
all  that  I  have  said — drop,  drop,  drop,  day  after  day  ; 
and  all  the  proofs  of  your  love  I  have  managed  to  give. 
You  are  no  match  for  a  woman,  my  dear,  in  this 
matter  when  her  cunning  is  prompted  by  her  infinite 
love.  For  I  do  love  you,  Hugh — never  forget  that  ; 
all  I  do  is  for  that.  But  just  think  over  all  the  times 
we  have  been  together ;  all  of  which  these  people — in- 
cluding both  the  girls,  you  know — have  observed. 
Why,  take  to-day,  for  instance.  What  will  they  think 
of  this  long  confidential  interview  ?  What  of  my  greet- 
ing of  you?  I  have  planned  all  this  ;  and  I  am  quite 
prepared  to  go  on  with  it.  Suppose  you  were  now  to 
say  it  was  all  a  mistake,  that  I  had  been  planning  to 
catch  you  in  the  toils  like  a  scheming  widow," — she 
laughed  again  at  this — "  do  you  think  you  would  have  a 


Ube  Greatest  Gift  279 

chance  of  being  believed  against  my  acting,  backed  by 
the  remembrance  of  our  old  engagement,  and  all  the  lit- 
tle innocent  things  that  have  fitted  in  like  a  child's  word 
puzzle  to  spell  compromising?  More  than  that ;  sup- 
posing you  were  half-believed,  would  it  help  to  raise 
you  ife  the  opinion  of  the  dear,  old,  honest,  tender- 
hearted captain,  of  good,  true  Margery,  or  even  of 
pretty,  sharp-sighted  Nan,  to  have  it  known  that  you 
had  broken  my  heart,  and  done  it  heartlessly  and  at 
such  a  time?  " 

Hugh  Dallas  made  no  reply  for  a  moment,  but  then 
shrugging  his  shoulders,  he  said  : 

"  It  is  just  such  a  scheme  as  you  might  make,  but  it 
has  one  fatal  flaw — it  won't  wear.  As  it  comes  to  be 
tried  by  time,  it  will  fail  in  a  dozen  points.  Mean- 
while, I  warn  you,  and  as  you  will  not  tell  the  truth, 
I  will ;  and  shall  do  it  at  once. " 

With  that  he  left  her.  But  he  was  by  no  means  so 
confident  as  his  words  implied.  He  knew  the  exact 
spot  where  the  attack  would  tell — the  effect  upon 
Nan  ;  and  as  he  walked  quickly  to  the  house,  he  was 
full  of  misgivings.  The  girl  was  on  the  terrace  alone 
when  he  reached  there.  She  looked  at  him  with  calm 
indifference  as  he  neared  her,  and  then  said  : 

"I  think  Godfrey  would  like  to  see  you,  Mr.  Dallas. 
He  asked  for  you  more  than  an  hour  ago,  soon  after 
we  got  back  from  the  station.  Can  you  go  to  him  ?  " 

"Yes,  thank  you.  I  will  go  now,"  he  said,  startled 
to  find  how.  long  the  interview  had  lasted.  "  I  should 
have  gone  before,  but — " 

But  Nan  turned  away  into  the  house  with  a  mur- 
mured excuse,  and  without  waiting  to  hear  more. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

"  I  SEEM  to  fall  in  for  some  good  things  when  I  come 
over  here,''  said  Hugh  Dallas  to  himself,  in  a  sardonic 
undertone,  as  he  went  up  to  Godfrey's  room.  "  What 
a  situation  for  a  man  whose  hatred  of  ridicule  is  as 
morbid  and  keen  as  mine.  I  suppose  there'll  be  some 
more  of  this  congratulation  here."  • 

He  found  Margery  and  the  captain  in  the  sick-room, 
and  the  girl  rose  with  a  smile  and  shook  hands,  giving 
him  to  understand  more  by  her  manner  than  the  few 
syllables  she  whispered,  that  she  wished  to  congratu- 
late him.  He  said  nothing  then,  for  his  attention  was 
mainly  attracted  to  Godfrey  Drury. 

The  cripple  looked  very  white  and  ill  and  nervous. 
His  eyes,  larger  by  contrast  with  his  thin,  drawn  face, 
were  fastened  upon  Dallas  the  moment  the  latter 
entered  the  room,  and  followed  every  movement ;  and 
there  was  an  expression  in  them  which  Dallas  had 
never  before  noticed. 

"I  was  sorry  to  hear  of  your  accident,"  he  said, 
going  to  the  bedside  and  speaking  in  a  low  voice. 
"  But  Captain  Drury  tells  me  you  are  much  better." 

"I  was  not  hurt  much,"  answered  Godfrey.  "I'm 
getting  better  again  fast."  His  voice  was  weak,  and 
sounded  a  little  hollow  and  nervous.  "Sit  down  by 
the  bedside,  I  want  to  talk  to  you.  Can  you  spare 
time  ?  "  He  looked  anxious  as  he  asked  this. 
280 


trbe  Greatest  OKft.  ssi 

"Why,  of  course.  The  whole  day  if  you  wish  it," 
answered  Dallas  cheeringly.  "I  want  to  try  and 
rouse  you  a  bit.  These  things  pull  a  fellow  down  a 
good  deal.  Now  tell  me,  how  did  you  manage  to 
tumble  over  that  bit  of  the  cliff?  " 

"  I  don't  remember  ;  at  least  I  suppose  I  tripped,  or 
something,"  answered  Godfrey  uneasily,  and  then  he 
changed  the  subject.  (<But  I  hear  you  have  been 
tumbling,  too." 

"I?" 

"Yes,  falling  in  love,"  said  Godfrey,  with  a  smile. 

Dallas's  face  grew  stern,  for  he  noticed  that  both 
Margery  and  the  captain  looked  at  him  and  smiled  as 
well. 

"That  is  a  grave  mistake  which  you  are  not  alone 
in  making,"  he  answered,  in  such  a  tone  that  the  rest 
were  astonished.  "We  will  not  speak  of  it  now,  if 
you  please." 

A  very  awkward  silence  followed. 

"I  will  leave  you  now  that  Mr.  Dallas  has  come, 
dear,"  said  Margery,  bending  over  Godfrey. 

"Yes,  please.  I  want  to  speak  to  him.  And  you, 
father." 

Dallas  looked  on  in  astonishment  as  the  two  left  the 
room  together,  the  captain  taking  a  moment  to 
whisper  : 

"Humor  him,  Mr.  Dallas,  if  you  can.  It's  upset 
him  a  good  deal.  Humor  him  if  you  can." 

"Mr.  Dallas,  I  want  to  say  something  to  you — 
something  I  can't  say  to  any  one  else  here,  yet  the 
want  of  speaking  about  it  is  making  me  ill.  I  can 
trust  you,  can't  I  ?  " 


282  ube  Greatest  Gift. 

"Certainly  you  may  trust  me  freely,"  answered 
Dallas,  returning  to  his  chair  by  the  bedside  and  trying 
to  keep  his  surprise  from  showing  in  his  face. 

"Yes,  I  know.  At  any  rate  I  must  tell  somebody. 
This  was  no  fall.  I  was  attacked  and  struck." 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Dallas;  and  then  after  a  mo- 
ment's pause,  "by  whom  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  tell?"  said  Godfrey,  a  red  flush  dying 
his  drawn  face,  and  his  eyes  fixed  steadily  on  the 
other's  face. 

"I  thought  that  was  what  you  wanted  to  tell  me," 
replied  Dallas  steadily,  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone. 

The  cripple  raised  himself  with  an  effort  and  looked 
about  the  room  suspiciously  and  then  asked,  in  a  low 
'voice  : 

"There's  no  one  here?     Look  outside  the  door." 

"  No,  no  ;  there's  no  one  about." 

"  Look  outside  the  door,"  said  the  other  again  im- 
patiently, and,  to  satisfy  him,  Dallas  did  so. 

"Lock  it." 

"What  next?  "  thought  Dallas,  as  he  turned  the  key 
in  the  lock. 

"Come  close  to  me  and  listen." 

"  Had  you  not  better  wait  until  you  are  stronger? 
This  excitement  may  do  you  harm." 

"  No,"  said  the  invalid  sharply.  "It's  wanting  to 
speak  of  it  that  keeps  me  ill.  My  dear  father,  God 
bless  him,  thinks  I  am  suffering  from  shock  caused  by 
this  ;  so  I  am,  but  not  as  he  thinks."  Then  he  stopped 
suddenly,  and  passed  his  long  white  fingers  across  his 
forehead,  as  if  collecting  his  thoughts  and  determining 
how  to  begin. 


TTbe  Greatest  Gift  283 

Dallas  watched  him  with  real  pity.  It  was  evi- 
dent enough  that  he  was  suffering  great  mental  pain. 

"They  are  trying  to  part  me  from  Margery,"  he 
said,  with  an  effort  to  overcome  his  nervousness  that 
made  his  voice  husky. 

Hugh  Dallas  could  not  repress  a  slight  start  at  this  ; 
partly  of  surprise  at  the  words,  and  partly  anxiety  as 
to  what  would  follow.  He  said  nothing,  waiting  for 
the  other  to  continue. 

"Do  you  hear  that?  But  they  sha'n't  do  it,  by 
God,  they  sha'n't,"  and  in  his  excitement  he  dashed  his 
fist  on  the  coverlet. 

"Who  is  doing  this  ?  " 

"Do  you  remember  my  asking  you  about  a  woman 
whose  name  was  mentioned  in  your  office  ?  " 

"Do  you  mean  Esther  Southerst?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  cried  vehemently.      "Yes.     Curse  her  !  " 

"Who  is  she?" 

"Who  is  she?  "  echoed  the  cripple  excitedly,  his  face 
crimsoning  again  and  his  brow  lowering  with  heavy 
frowns.  "She's  a  devil,  a  fiend,  a  beast,  a  hell-hag. 
How  did  you  get  her  name  ?  Don't,  for  God's  sake, 
mislead  me  now.  It  was  no  pure  chance  that  you 
mentioned  it  that  day  in  your  office.  I  was  afraid  of 
it  at  the  time.  I  know  it  now,  for  she  mentioned  yours 
to  me." 

"Let  me  ask  you  again  to  put  off  this  subject  till 
you  are  stronger." 

"My  God,  man,  can't  you  see  it's  the  suspense  that's 
racking  me  and  driving  me  mad  ?  I  have  waited  for 
your  coming,  saving  up  every  atom  of  strength  to 
speak  to  you  about  it.  I  shall  never  leave  this  room 


284  Ube  Greatest  (3fft 

alive  or  sane  if  we  don't  speak  of  it.  Tell  me  every- 
thing you  know.  Everything." 

'•'I  will,"  answered  Dallas;  and  then  he  spoke  of 
the  letters  that  had  come  to  him,  of  his  seeing  the 
effect  of  the  mention  of  the  name  upon  Godfrey,  of  his 
reluctance  to  question  him,  of  the  turning  up  the  re- 
port of  the  attempted  suicide,  and  of  the  last  futile 
attempt  to  trace  the  woman,  in  fact,  of  everything 
except  the  letters  written  to  Margery  and  Alan. 

"I  have  been  placed  in  an  exceedingly  awkward 
position,"  he  concluded.  "These  things  have  been 
brought  to  me,  and  I,  as  only  a  recent  friend  of  you 
all,  could  not  interfere.  I  could  take  no  other  course. 
I  invited  the  writer  to  come  to  me  that  I  might  hear 
her  story  face  to  face  and  sift  it,  as  I  should  do  in  any 
anonymous  correspondence.  The  only  other  step  that 
I  feel  now  I  ought  to  have  taken  was  to  have  laid  the 
letters'before  you.  And  that  I  had  decided  to  do  this 
week,  if  this  had  not  happened.  And  now,"  he  added, 
after  a  pause,  "  if  you  like  to  tell  me  what  has  passed 
before,  and  I  can  in  any  way  help  you,  I  will  do  all 
that  lies  in  my  power." 

"The  deep,  artful  she-devil,"  said  the  cripple,  with 
an  accent  of  concentrated  rage,  with  a  look  of  venom- 
ous fury  which  recalled  to  Dallas  the  expression  he  had 
seen  on  his  face  in  that  scene  with  the  dog. 

"What  claim  does  she  make  upon  you?"  asked 
Dallas  after  a  very  long  silence,  in  which  the  cripple 
had  seemed  buried  in  deep  thought 

"I  wish  you  had  come  to  me  at  the  first,"  said  God- 
frey. "We  could  have  faced  her,  and  perhaps  have 
ehamed  her.  She  might  have  been  afraid  of  you  ; 


Ube  Greatest  Gift  285 

though,  God  knows,  she's  as  reckless  as  she  is  bad. 
Will  you  see  her?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  if  you  wish  it,  and  if  I  can  find  her." 

"  Oh,  you  can  find  her.  She  won't  run  away.  She 
lives  at  a  place  called  Mawlefen,  near  Strangford. 
Fen  Cottages." 

He  blushed  as  he  gave  the  address,  and  watched 
Dallas  nervously  and  furtively  as  the  latter  wrote  it 
down. 

"Write  and  order  her  to  come  and  see  you  at  Mid- 
dlingham  on  Monday.  She'll  do  it  when  she  knows 
I've  given  you  the  address." 

Then  another  awkward  silence  followed,  which 
Dallas  broke. 

"You  had  better  tell  me  what  sort  of  claim  she 
makes  on  you." 

"  That  I  can't  marry  because  I'm  bound  to  her." 

He  jerked  the  words  out  as  if  defiantly. 

"Bound!     In  what  way  ?" 

"She's  a  liar  !  "  cried  the  cripple  fiercely;  "  a  foul 
liar.  She'll  tell  you  all  her  lying  story.  She's  got  it 
pat  enough,  but  it's  lies — lies  from  start  to  finish.  She 
has  no  more  claim  on  me  than  I  have  on  you.  She's 
a  liar,  a  liar  !  "  he  repeated.  "  But  I  shall  be  easier 
when  you've  seen  her.  She'll  be  frightened  of  you." 

"It  would  probably  help  me  materially  if  you  were 
to  tell  me  something  of  what  has  passed  between 
you. " 

"Don't  ask  me.  I  can't  speak  of  it.  I  am  ashamed, 
and  I  hate  myself  for  it  all  when  I  think.  Let  it  be 
enough  that  she  met  me  here,  and  taunted  me,  and 
threatened  me  that  I  must  break  with  Margery.  My 


286  Ube  Greatest  Gift. 

God,  I'd  rather  die,  or  kill  her,"  and  his  eyes  flashed 
ominously  as  he  said  this.  "  And  when  I  refused,  she 
set  a  great,  hulking  ruffian,  some  bully  of  hers,  on  me 
to  maim  me,  vowing  all  the  time  that  I  should  never 
live  to  marry  another  woman.  Ah  !  Mr.  Dallas,"  he 
cried  suddenly,  stretching  out  his  hands,  and  clasping 
the  other's  arm,  and  speaking  with  a  catch  in  his  voice 
like  the  sob  of  an  hysterical  woman,  "  you  can't 
think  what  this  means  to  me.  Margery's  love  is  to 
me  like  light  to  one  threatened  with  blindness,  like 
air  to  a  man  who  is  buried  alive,  like  Christ  to  some 
poor  wretch  whose  faith  is  tottering.  You  will  try  and 
save  me  ? "  and  he  looked  up  so  imploringly  and  pit- 
eously  that  Dallas  was  greatly  moved. 

"I  will  try,"  he  answered,  and  he  took  Godfrey's 
cold,  trembling  hand  and  held  it  in  his  own  warm, 
firm  grasp.  "And  now  try  and  get  some  rest,  or  this 
will  do  you  infinite  harm." 

"  I  will  try,"  said  Godfrey  faintly,  as  he  lay  back 
on  his  pillow  and  smiled  at  the  man.  "lam  easier 
in  mind  now  I  have  told  you.  '* 

Dallas  left  him,  the  thought  and  sight  of  Godfrey's 
anguish  and  agony  having  driven  away  for  the  time 
all  remembrance  of  his  own  worry. 

At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  he  found  the  captain,  who 
had  been  pacing  the  hall  with  a  kind  of  quarter-deck 
march.  He  was  full  of  anxiety  and  grief,  and  looked 
so  wistfully  and  inquiringly  at  Dallas  that  the  younger 
man  was  full  of  sympathy  for  him. 

"Is  he  any  better?"  asked  the  captain,  trying  to 
speak  cheerfully. 

"Yes,  I  think  he  will  mend  fast.     We    have  had 


Ube  Greatest  (Bift  287 

quite  a  long  talk  together,"  replied  Dallas,  with  prompt 
encouragement. 

The  captain  looked  at  him  steadily. 

"Is  it  anything  I  can  do  for  him ?  I  should  like  to 
help  him — if  I  can." 

"  I  don't  think  there's  anything  at  all,"  answered 
Dallas,  regretting  that  he  had  not  suggested  taking  the 
captain  into  confidence.  "The  shock  has  upset  him, 
but  I  believe  he  will  mend  now." 

"Then  there's — but  no,"  and  he  checked  his  eager- 
ness with  an  effort.  "I  thought — I  feared  there  was 
something  ;  but  Heaven  forbid  I  should  want  to  know 
the  lad's  secret  if  he  does  not  want  to  tell  me." 

He  looked  with  the  same  searching,  wistful  look 
into  Dallas's  face,  as  if  inviting  a  confidence  ;  but, 
when  nothing  was  said,  he  turned  away,  saying  he 
would  go  up  again  to  Godfrey. 

"I  should  have  liked  to  tell  the  old  captain,"  said 
Dallas  to  himself  as  he  walked  across  to  the  library  to 
write  the  letter  at  once  which  was  to  bring  Esther 
Southerst  to  Middlingham  on  Monday. 

He  sat  dallying  for  a  moment  with  the  pen,  think- 
ing partly  how  he  should  frame  the  letter,  but  chiefly 
over  the  strange  story  he  had  just  heard. 

"I  was  right,  after  all,  in  that  half-guess  I  made  the 
other  day,"  he  thought,  "  when  I  took  the  prosaic  view 
of  this  woman's  interference.  But  there  must  be  some- 
thing more  behind.  Why  does  he  suppose  she'll  be 
afraid  of  me?  I've  sometimes  had  a  notion  that  he 
himself  was  touched  with  a  feeling  of  that  sort.  Poor 
devil  !  What  a  passion  is  that  of  his  for  Miss  Margery. 
Or  is  it,  I  wonder,  that  his  feelings  are  just  wrought 


28$  ttbe  Greatest  6ift. 

up  because  he's  afraid  of  losing  her  ?  But  yet  he  was 
in  earnest — if  I  ever  saw  a  man  in  earnest — when  he 
clutched  hold  of  me  in  that  hysterical  way.  But  you 
never  can  tell  exactly  where  mere  love  for  a  girl  ends, 
and  fear  of  losing  her  begins,  with  those  self-absorbed, 
self-indulgent  beggars.  Anyway,  I  stand  pledged  to  see 
him  through  a  devilish  awkward  business,  so  here  goes. " 

"To  ESTHER  SOUTHERST,  or  'ONE  WHO  KNOWS.' 
"Mr.  Godfrey  Drury  has  given  me  your  address, 
and  after  a  consultation  between  us,  it  has  been  de- 
cided that  you  shall  come  to  my  office — the  office  of  the 
Evening  News — at  Middlingham,  on  Monday.  You 
will  please  be  there  by  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
punctually. 

"Yours  obediently, 

"HuGH  DALLAS." 

He  read  it  over  carefully. 

"Yes,  that'll  do.  Best  to  take  the  masterful  line 
with  that  sort  of  woman  straight  from  the  outset.  It 
ought  be  a  striking  interview.  What  a  splendid  column 
it  would  make  for  the  News. " 

He  smiled  as  he  fastened  the  envelope,  and  ad- 
dressed : 

Esther  Southerst, 

Fen  Cottages, 

Mawlefen, 

nr.  Strangford. 

"Neither  '  Mrs.' nor  '  Miss '  with  that  young  woman  ; 
but  I'll  endorse  it  'Important.'  Looks  official.  And 
now,"  he  exclaimed,  throwing  himself  back  in  his 


Sbe  Greatest  6ift.  289 

chair,  "  what  about  my  own  bother  ?  What's  the  best 
course  to  take  with  that  exceedingly  determined,  not 
to  say  reckless,  widow?  I'm  disposed  to  think, "  he 
went  on,  after  a  deeply  thoughtful  pause,  "that  my 
best  weapon  of  defense  will  be  the  jester's  motley  :  to 
turn  the  whole  thing  inside  out,  with  the  infernal  ab- 
surdity of  it  all  in  full  view.  It  is  absurd — infernally 
absurd — and  ridiculous  ;  but  there's  a  tremendous  lot 
of  truth  in  what  she  said,  that  if  one  takes  it  seriously, 
the  sympathy  is  all  likely  to  go  to  the  woman.  But 
if  I  could  just  laugh  the  whole  thing  out  of  counte- 
nance with  a  spice  of  mock  heroics  and  somebody  else 
to  help  me,  of  course.  I'll  go  over  and  fetch  old  Alan, 
and  tell  him  everything,  and — wonder  if  we  could  get 
the  two  lads  into  it.  That  slangy  youth  Guy,  who 
played  my  lady  that  salt  water  trick,  would  be  a 
splendid  ally.  Egad,  .it's  worth  trying.  It's  rough 
on  her,  but  she  had  her  chance  of  getting  out  of  the 
mess.  I'll  run  over  to  Garthorne,  and  I  can  post  this 
on  the  way." 

Just  then  the  door  was  opened  and  Nan  came  in. 

"  I  hope  I  am  not  interrupting  you,"  she  said  coldly. 

"  Not  the  slightest.     Come  in  and  sit  down,  and  let 
us  have  one  of  our  old  cosy  chats — we  allies." 

He  spoke  so  lightly  that  the  girl  glanced  at  him  in 
surprise. 

"  No,  thank  you.     I  came,  at  Margery's  request,  to 
ask  you  a  question  ;  that  is  all." 

"Well,  I  can't  answer  any  questions  unless  you  sit 
down,"  he  said ;  now  that  he  had  thought  of  a  way 
out   of  the  Rudyer  complication,  he  was  quite  high- 
spirited. 
19 


290  Ube  Greatest  etft. 

" I  have  no  wish  to  stay,  thank  you,"  said  Nan, 
almost  crossly.  "  When  poor  Godfrey  is  so  ill,  I  have 
no  time  to  gossip.  Margery  wishes  to  know  whether 
anything  has  passed  between  you  and  Godfrey  that 
you  can  tell  her  to  ease  her  mind  about  him." 

"  In  what  way  ? "  he  asked,  thinking  to  prolong  the 
interview. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Dallas,  you  surely  must  know  what  she 
means.  This  is  no  time  for  keeping  us  in  suspense." 
And  she  looked  reproachfully  at  him.  '  "You  would 
not  have  answered  Margery  in  that  way  ;  and  I  am 
only  here  as  Margery's  substitute." 

"I  was  wishing  to  prolong  the  interview,  that  is 
all.  I  am  sorry  if  what  I  said  annoyed  you.  No,  I 
regret  to  say  there  is  nothing  I  can  tell  your  sister." 

Nan,  who  had  looked  up  sharply  at  the  first  sentence, 
turned  away  to  leave  the  room,  but  stopped  a  minute, 
as  if  hesitating  whether  to  say  any  more. 

"  I  am  sorry  I  am  so  unfortunate  as  always  to  seem 
to  displease  you,  Miss  Nan,"  said  Dallas,  taking  ad- 
vantage of  her  hesitation. 

"  You  really  do  not  displease  me,"  answered  Nan, 
trying  to  make  her  voice  and  manner  suggestive  of 
complete  indifference.  "  I  have  not  noticed  anything. 
What  I  hesitated  for  just  now  was  because  uncle  told 
me  that  I  seemed  rather  less  cordial  than  I  should 
have  been  in  my  congratulations  to  you  as  we  came 
from  the  station.  I  was  .not  conscious  of  this,  of 
course. " 

"Don't  say  any  more,  pray.  It's  a  funny  business 
altogether,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh,  thinking  to  start  his 
method  of  ridicule  at  once;  "but  the  joke  is  about 


Ube  Greatest  Offt.  291 

played  out.  Mrs.  Rudyer  was  always  fond  of  a  prac- 
tical joke." 

"Five  years  ago,  you  mean?"  interposed  Nan, 
looking  up. 

"Five?  Yes,  ten  years  ago,"  he  replied  coloring, 
"all  her  life.  But  I  think  this—" 

He  was  interrupted  by  some  one  tapping  very  vig- 
orously at  the  window.  It  was  the  widow,  who 
beckoned  to  them  to  open  it  and  let  her  in.  And  be- 
fore he  could  stop  her,  the  girl  had  thrown  it  open. 

"Oh,  Hugh,  I'm  ashamed  of  you,"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Rudyer.  "  Flirting  with  Nan  right  before  my  eyes, 
while  my  lips  are  scarcely  cool  from  your  kisses." 

He  tried  to  laugh,  as  if  in  pursuance  of  his  new 
method,  but  he  was  too  angry,  and  the  laugh  sounded 
particularly  melancholy  and  hollow. 

Then  Nan,  with  a  look  which  filled  the  cup  of  his 
wrath  to  overflowing,  turned  away  and  left  the  room, 
saying  : 

"I'll  leave  you  together." 

The  widow  burst  into  another  laugh. 

"It's  no  use,  Hugh.  You  must  see  that.  You  only 
keep  compromising  yourself  more  and  more,  and 
twining  the  coil  round  you.  But  you  mustn't  flirt. 
You  know  you  promised  me  faithfully — and  especially 
with  Nan,"  and  she  shook  her  finger  at  him  with  mock 
seriousness,  and  laughed  again  ;  till  her  manner 
changed  suddenly,  and  she  went  to  his  side  quickly, 
and  slipped  her  hand  into  his  and  held  it.  "  Don't  be 
angry  with  me,  Hugh.  It's  only  for  love  of  you." 

Then  it  was  her  turn  to  be  surprised,  for  the  man 
laughed  on  his  part 


-292  ttbe  Greatest  Gift. 

"  Good,  good,  very  good.  Cleverly  acted  ;  for  all 
the  world  as  if  we  were  not  playing  the  fool  together 
for  the  fun  of  it.  But  we  have  had  enough  of  it  now — 
at  least,  I  can  take  my  oath  I  have,  and  I  don't  mean 
to  have  any  more,"  and  getting  away  from  her,  he 
left  the  room  and  the  house  to  go  to  Garthorue. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

HUGH  DALLAS  felt  much  curiosity  as  he  sat  waiting 
in  his  room  for  Esther  Southerst,  and  as  the  time 
named  for  the  interview  came  and  passed,  his  impa- 
tience increased. 

It  was  half-past  two  before  a  lad  announced:  "A 
lady  to  see  you,  sir,"  and  Esther  Southerst  was  shown 
in. 

Dallas  rose  instantly,  and  looked  at  her  very  keenly 
and  searchingly,  and  she  returned  his  look  steadily 
and  defiantly. 

She  was  a  tall,  strong-looking,  dark,  handsome 
woman,  with  sharp,  shrewd  features,  thin  lips,  and  an 
expression  of  great  vigor,  resolution,  and  strength  of 
will.  She  was  dressed  soberly  in  black,  and  entered 
the  room  with  a  jaunty,  swinging  air,  and  looked  at 
Dallas  and  then  about  the  room  with  complete  self- 
possession.  She  sat  down  without  being  asked,  and 
turned  to  Dallas  and  laughed,  showing  a  set  of  even, 
white  teeth,  with  an  expression  that  was  pleasant  to 
look  upon. 

"So  you're  the  editor,  are  you,  whom  my  Godfrey 
has  taken  into  his  confidence  in  order  to  frighten  me  ?  " 

"Bold  and  clever,"  was  Hugh  Dallas'  mental  com- 
ment. "  Must  sit  on  that. " 

"If  this  interview  is  to  lead  anywhere  except  to  the 

393 


294  Ube  Greatest  Cft't 

jail,  you  will  have  to  take  a  different  tone,"  he  said 
.  sternly. 

She  laughed  defiantly,  and  got  up  at  once. 

"Shall  I?"  she  said.  "Then  it  had  better  lead  there 
at  once.  I've  not  come  here  to  be  bullied  by  you. 
Good-by, ''  and  she  walked  to  the  door. 

Hugh  Dallas  made  neither  answer  nor  movement. 

"  Do  you  hear  me?  "  she  said.  "  It  had  better  lead 
there  at  once,"  she  said. 

"If  you  leave  this  room,  it  will,"  he  said,  without 
even  looking  round. 

She  went  up  to  the  door  and  stood  by  it  with  her 
hand  on  the  handle,  without  speaking. 

Dallas  went  on  writing  steadily,  and  in  this  way 
fully  a  minute  passed.  Then,  however,  she  came 
swinging  back  across  the  room,  with  the  same  jaunty, 
devil-may-care  manner,  and  sat  down. 

"  I  don't  believe  you,"  she  said,  laughing  noisily, 
and  looking  at  him  defiantly  ;  "  but  I'm  not  going  to 
have  the  bother  of  coming  all  this  way  for  nothing. 
I  know  you  daren't  give  me  in  charge,  don't  you  fear. 
You  won't  frighten  me,  though  you  can  look  so 
much  in  earnest.  What  have  you  brought  me  here 
for  ? " 

"  She's  angry  with  herself  for  having  been  frightened. 
Good,"  thought  Dallas. 

"To  tell  you  that  your  power  over  Godfrey  Drury  is 
at  an  end  ;  to  deal  fairly  with  you  if  you  are  reason- 
able ;  to  put  you  in  jail  for  attempting  to  murder  him 
if  you  are  not.  You  can  take  your  choice."  Fie  said 
this  very  firmly  and  deliberately. 

Esther  Southerst  put  her  head  on  one  side  and  looked 


Ube  ereatest  6ift  295 

at  him  cunningly  through  half-lowered  eyelids,  and 
made  no  answer  for  some  time.  Then  she  said  : 

"How  much  has  he  told  you?  He's  a  horrid  little 
liar,  yoy  know,  and  a  beastly  little  coward.  He's  not 
your  kind,  and  I  don't  fancy  you  know  what  he's 
done,  or  you  wouldn't  try  that  tone  with  me.  It 
doesn't  come  natural  to  you  to  bully  women.  It  does 
to  him."  And  then  she  shook  her  head  slowly  and 
laughed  good-humoredly  and  pleasantly.  "  How  much 
do  you  know?"  she  said  again  after  a  pause. 

"  Enough  to  send  you  to  a  long  term  of  penal  servi- 
tude for  conspiring  with  others  to  murder  him." 

"For  what?"  cried  the  woman,  bursting  again  into 
a  loud  shrill  laugh.  "  With  others  !  Didn't  I  tell  you 
he  was  a  horrid  little  liar.  What  others  do  you  think 
I  should  want  to  thrash  him — a  little  poppity-pip  like 
him.  Why,  I  did  it  myself,  of  course  ;  but  I  suppose 
he  was  ashamed  to  own  he'd  been  walloped  by  a 
woman.  I  just  smacked  his  face  when  he  defied  me, 
the  little  sneak,  and  gave  him  a  shove.  A  man  wouldn't 
have  known  he'd  been  touched,  but  that  little  wrong- 
balanced  chip  just  flip-flopped  over  the  cliff  and  cracked 
his  skull.  Ah,  and  would  have  died  probably,  if  I 
hadn't  lugged  him  up.  Did  he  tell  you  that  ?  "  asked 
the  woman  fiercely. 

"  He  told  me  quite  enough  to  prove  that  you  made 
a  very  desperate  attempt  upon  his  life,  and  very  nearly 
succeeded  in  killing  him.  For  that  you'll  have  to 
answer. " 

"  If  a  man  can  larrup  his  wife  to  keep  her  in  order, 
mayn't  a  woman  cuff  her  husband  when  he  gets  be- 
yond endurance  ?  "  she  asked. 


296  Ube  Greatest  Gift. 

Dallas  started  at  the  question,  and  the  woman  noticed 
the  gesture  instantly. 

"Ah,"  she  said,  " I  see  !  He  forgot  to  tell  you  that 
point,  I  suppose.  Now,  Mr.  Dallas,  don't  yo.u  think 
we'd  better  understand  one  another?  You  took  me  in 
when  I  first  came  ;  you  did  ;  I  give  you  credit  for  it, 
for  you  did  it  well.  What's  more,  you  frightened 
me  a  bit.  I  thought  you  knew  everything  and 
that  he  really  did  mean  to  round  on  me.  But  I 
can  see  now  he's  just  misled  you  as  he  does  every- 
body." 

"There's  no  question  about  misleading  anybody. 
Mr.  Drury  is  determined  to  put  an  end  to  your  perse- 
cution, that  is  all." 

Dallas  spoke  firmly  enough  ;  but  he  was  staggered 
by  the  woman's  manner  as  well  as  by  her  words. 

"Persecution,"  she  echoed,  with  a  sneer.  "Poor 
little  thing  !  Persecution — rubbish  !  If  any  one's  been 
persecuted  it's  me — his  wife  ;  his  lawful,  wedded,  de- 
serted wife.  Ah,  you  may  look  and  stare ;  but  that's 
what  I  am.  And  he  knows  it.  And  he  knows  that  if 
he  marries  Miss  Margery  Allingham — with  all  her  fine 
airs  and  her  graces — he'll  be  committing  a  sin.  And 
he  won't  do  it.  Not  he.  He  daren't.  And,  what's 
more,  I  sha'n't  let  him.  I'm  no  fool  for  him  to  play 
with  as  he  likes.  I  chucked  myself  in  the  water  once, 
you  know  ;  and  he  jolly  soon  had  the  thing  hushed  up. 
I'd  chuck  him  in  next  sooner  than  let  this  marriage  go 
on  ;  blest  if  I  wouldn't." 

As  she  said  this  she  looked  angry  enough  to  have 
done  all  that  she  threatened. 

"  You  will  please  not  to  bluster  here,"  said  Dallas 


TTbe  Greatest  (Bift  297 

calmly.  "You  say  you  are  married.  Where  is  your 
certificate  ?  " 

"Oh,  he's  put  you  up  to  that,  has  he?  the  little 
skunk,"  she  said  vehemently.  "He's  a  mean  little 
beast.  I  haven't  got  a  certificate.  Will  that  do  for 
you?  "  She  stared  defiantly  at  Dallas. 

"  Yes,  it  shows  the  hollowness  of  your  claim." 

"Oh,  does  it  ?  "  she  answered.  "  Well  then,  it  just 
doesn't  do  anything-  of  the  sort.  He  took  advantage 
of  my  affections  and  then  tried  to  get  rid  of  me.  But 
he  promised  to  marry  me  and  he'll  have  to  keep  his 
promise.  I  swear  he  shall.  I'm  not  going  to  have  my 
heart  broken  by  him." 

Hugh  Dallas  looked  into  her  face  as  she  said  this 
with  a  quiet,  scrutinizing  glance. 

"All  right,"  she  said,  her  cheeks  flushing  very 
slightly.  "You  can  think  what  you  like  about  my 
loving  such  a  twisted  little  sprat.  But  it  don't  matter 
whether  I  do  or  not.  He's  not  going  to  desert  me. 
Did  he  tell  you  he  got  me  to  go  through  what  he  called 
a  marriage  service  with  some  one  he  called  a  parson, 
the  little  liar.  And  that  when  he  thought  he  could 
safely  get  rid  of  me  he  up  and  told  me  the  truth.  But 
I'm  not  over-easy  to  chuck  on  one  side.  I  love  him 
too  much,"  and  she  finished  with  an  ill-sounding  laugh. 

"  Well,  I  don't  want  to  go  into  all  the  old  matters 
between  you,"  replied  Dallas,  "  but  I  repeat  that  he  is 
determined  that  at  any  cost  your  persecution  shall 
cease. " 

The  woman  looked  at  Dallas  with  the  same  scru- 
tinizing, penetrating  expression,  holding  her  head  on 
one  side  and  half-closing  her  eyelids. 


298  tlbe  Greatest  <3ift 

"I  didn't  think  you'd  have  used  that  word  again," 
she  said  slowly.  "It's  not  the  word  you'd  use  of  your 
own  free  will,  if  you  were  writing  about  a  girl  who  had 
been  misled  and  refused  to  be  chucked  away  like  an 
old  hat.  And  I'll  tell  you  what  " — she  leaned  forward 
as  if  speaking  confidentially — "  it's  not  the  word  which 
Nan  Allingham  would  use  if  she  knew  the  facts.  Ah, 
you  agree  with  me,  I  see." 

"Don't  introduce  other  names  into  the  conversation, 
if  you  please,"  said  Dallas  sternly. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  shall,"  replied  the  woman  instantly, 
with  a  return  to  her  jaunty  manner.  "I  shall  speak 
of  anybody  I  like.  You've  told  me  to  come  here  ;  and 
I  shall  talk  about  what  I  choose.  See  ?  If  I  like  to 
tell  you  that  you're  as  blind  as  a  bat  not  to  see  that 
Miss  Nan  just  worships  the  ground  you  tread  on,  and 
that  that  sneaking  little  widow  wants  to  part  you,  I 
shall  do  it.  Oh,  but  I  shall.  She  does  love  you.  Oh 
yes,  she  does.  And  you'll  be  a  fool  if  you  let  that 
Mrs.  Rudyer  gain  her  way.  No,  I  sha'n't  stop,  and 
the  more  you  frown  and  carry  on,  the  more  I  shall 
speak.  Why,  look  at  your  face — you're  as  red  as  a 
turkey-cock,"  and  she  laughed  uproariously,  at  his  evi- 
dent embarrassment. 

"Be  silent,"  he  cried  angrily. 

"You  didn't  expect  I  was  going  to  round  on  you  in 
that  way,  did  you  ?  "  not  taking  the  least  notice  of  his 
protest.  "  Bless  your  heart,  I  know  what  goes  on  at 
the  Manor  House  a  deal  better  than  you  do." 

"I"!!  have  no  more  of  this,"  said  Dallas,  rising. 
"You  had  better  go,  and  I'll  take  other  means  to  bring 
you  to  reason." 


Ube  Greatest  (Bift  299 

"  Hoity-toity,"  laughed  the  woman,  leaning  back 
in  her  chair  and  looking  at  him  impudently.  "  You're 
not  going  to  frighten  me  again,  don't  you  think 
it.  If  I  do  no  more  good  than  to  bring  you  two  to 
understand  one  another,  I  sha'n't  have  come  here  for 
nothing — " 

"Be  silent,  and  go  away,"  cried  Dallas. 

" — for  I  like  Miss  Nan,  and  I  like  what  I've  heard  of 
you,"  she  continued,  quite  unmoved  by  what  he  said, 
"  and  I  like  you  for  all  your  anger  at  hearing  that  a 
pretty  girl  worships  you.  I  haven't  got  a  bad  heart, 
I  can  tell  you,  when  I'm  treated  right,  and  " —  here  she 
paused  and  looked  at  him  ;  and  then  shook  her  head 
and  smiled  very  pleasantly  as  she  finished — "  you're 
not  the  sort  to  treat  a  woman  other  than  right.  I'm 
not  a  bit  afraid  of  you.  But  now  " —  and  her  manner 
changed  again  to  grave  earnestness — "I'm  going  to 
tell  you  the  truth.  Straight,  I  am,  and  I'll  leave  you  to 
judge  whether  you  think  I'm  right." 

Dallas  sat  down  again. 

"If  that  is  so,  I'll  listen,  but  no  more — rubbish.  I 
shall  not  listen  to  that." 

"It's  no  rubbish;  you  know  that,  Mr.  Dallas,"  an- 
swered the  woman,  her  eyes  brightening  with  mis- 
chief. "She  does  love  you,  and  I'm  glad — " 

"  Will  you—" 

"All  right,  I  won't  say  any  more  except  about 
Godfrey.  I've  called  him  my  husband.  Take  these 
letters  and  read  them,  and  see  whether  I'm  not  right 
in  doing  so." 

She  put  a  packet  of  letters  into  his  hands,  and  he 
glanced  through  them. 


300  ftbe  Greatest  Gift 

They  were  written  in  a  hand  which  he  recognized  as 
that  of  Godfrey  Drury.  They  were  all  addressed  to 
Esther  Southerst,  and  were  couched  in  the  most  lov- 
ing terms.  Many  of  them  began  "My  dearest  wife," 
"My  darling  wife,"  and  were  signed  "Your  loving 
husband,"  "Your  lonely  husband,"  or  simply  "Your 
husband." 

As  Dallas  read  them  his  face  darkened,  for  he 
could  judge  the  character  of  the  writer  in  what  he  had 
written,  and  he  could  trace  the  rise  and  wane  of  the 
passion.  When  he  had  given  them  a  hasty  reading, 
he  laid  them  down  on  his  desk,  and  the  woman  hand- 
ed him  three  or  four  more. 

"  You  have  seen  there  how  he  loved  me  ;  now  read 
how  he  can  hate — and  fear." 

He  read  these  more  carefully,  and  several  times 
flinched  and  winced  at  the  brutality  shown  in  certain 
parts  of  the  letters.  All  the  time  he  was  reading  she 
kept  her  keen,  searching  gaze  fixed  steadily  upon  his 
face,  noting  every  expression  that  passed  over  his 
features. 

"There's  no  need  for  you  to  say  what  you  think  of 
them,"  she  said  as  soon  as  he  had  finished  ;  "  I've  read 
that  in  your  face.  That's  the  man  who's  to  marry 
Margery  Allingham. " 

"No  doubt  he  has  regretted  writing  some  of  these 
letters, "he  said,  laying  his  hand  on  the  last  letters  she 
had  given  him. 

"Regretted  fiddlesticks,"  she  answered,  with  a  con- 
temptuous gesture.  "  He  regrets  the  others,  may  be 
— regrets  that  he  was  ever  such  a  fool  as  to  put  on  pa- 
per what  he  has  said  a  thousand  times,  and  with  a 


tTbe  Greatest  <Wtt.  aoi 

thousand  times  more  passion.  Bah,  you  don't  know 
him  yet — no  one  knows  him  at  the  Manor  House. 
He's  like  a  passionate  kid  if  he  wants  anything,  yelling 
and  screeching  till  he  gets  it;  and  then  he's  like  a 
blessed  fiend  for  mischief,  and  loves  to  trample,  and 
stamp,  and  kick  it  to  bits.  But  he  won't  trample  me." 

"You  have  no  claim  on  him,  you  must  see  that; 
and  certainly  you  have  no  regard  for  him.  You've 
shown  that  you  can  only  get  yourself  into  trouble  ; 
why  not  come  to  some  arrangement,  therefore,  and 
leave  him  to  go  his  way  in  peace?  " 

"  If  I  do,  may  I  rot !  "  cried  the  woman,  in  a  flash 
of  fury.  "  No,  no,  I'll  tell  you  what  I  mean  to  do.  I 
mean  to  stop  this  marriage  by  hook  or  by  crook,  and 
you  know  perfectly  well,  Mr.  Dallas,  that  those  letters 
are  strong  enough  to  let  me  do  that.  I  tell  you  again 
they  don't  know  what  Godfrey's  real  character  is,  and, 
when  I  choose  to  speak  out,  that  marriage  will  be  im- 
possible. He  shall  marry  me.  I  began  by  writing  a 
letter  or  two,  to  you  and  young  Squire  Ramsay,  and 
Miss  Allingham,  and  Godfrey  himself.  They  did  no 
good,  so  I  went  and  saw  him.  I  told  him  he  shouldn't 
marry,  and  he  was  like  a  fury,  raved,  and  stamped,  and 
swore,  and,  I  believe,  would  have  killed  me  if  he  could 
have  done  it  safely.  I  just  took  hold  of  him  and  held 
him,  and  when  I  let  him  go  he  broke  out  again  and 
tried  to  strike  me.  It  was  then  I  gave  him  the  clout 
on  the  head. " 

"But  do  you  mean  to  say  you  seriously  think  of 
keeping  him  from  marrying  by  fear  of  personal  vio- 
lence? " 

"  How  many  sorts  of  a  fool  do  you  take  me  for?  " 


302  trbe  Greatest  Gift 

she  answered  roughly.  "No,  I  don't  mean  anything 
of  the  kind.  Though  he's  such  a  skimpy  imp  of  malice 
and  nastiness,  he's  the  son  of  a  man  whose  name  all 
round  the  country-side  is  known  for  honor,  and  truth, 
and  fairness.  You  know  what  he'd  do  if  he  had  a 
sight  of  those  letters  you've  seen.  The  girl,  too — • 
though  why  she's  marrying  that  misshapen  image 
when  she's  just  head  over  heels  in  love  with  a  proper 
man  like  young  Squire  Ramsay  fairly  beats  me — is 
straight  and  true  as  a  needle,  sa  everybody  says,  and 
I  guess  she'd  squint  a  bit  if  she  saw  what's  written 
there.  You  know  all  that  well  enough,  Mr.  Dallas, 
and  so  does  he,"  and  she  shook  her  head,  "  and  that's 
just  what  makes  him  fairly  mad." 

Dallas  recognized  in  a  moment  the  strength  of  all 
this,  as  well  as  the  woman's  keenness  in  judging  the 
position,  and  he  sat  for  a  time  silently  thinking  it  all 
over. 

Then  he  turned  to  her,  and  asked  suddenly  : 

"Why  are  you  so  anxious  to  marry  young  Mr. 
Drury  ? " 

"Because  I  love  him  so  much,"  answered  the 
woman,  with  a  sneering  laugh,  "because  he's  such  a 
lovable  creature,  because  I  want  to  keep  him  from 
other  people,  because  I  don't  want  him  to  make  any 
other  woman  miserable,  because  I  choose,  or  because 
I  mean  to  make  his  life  a  hell  to  him  ;  any  reason  I 
please,  or  any  that  you  like  to  fit  on.  I  don't  care." 

"  I'll  fit  one.     Because  he's  rich,"  said  Dallas. 

"Maybe,"  she  answered  calmly,  but  with  a  tell- 
tale flush. 

"What  will  induce  you  to  renounce  your  claim?" 


Ube  Greatest  Gift.  303 

"What's  going  to  repay  me  for  giving  up  being 
made  a  lady  of?  " 

"You  can  best  tell  that,"  was  the  short  answer. 

"It's  no  question  of  money,  I  can  tell  you.  So 
don't  you  think  that.  I'm  not  a  beast  to  be  bought  or 
sold.  Right  in  the  very  first  place  he  must  agree  to 
marry  no  one  else.  If  he's  such  a  hound  that  he  won't 
keep  his  word,  he's  not  going  to  shove  me  out  in  order 
to  put  some  one  in  my  place.  That's  straight  ;  and 
unless  that's  agreed  to,  I'm  not  going  to  say  another 
word.  I  can  earn  my  living  ;  I'm  not  such  a  fool  as 
not  to  be  able  to  do  that.  I'm  independent  of  him. 
Are  you  going  to  agree  to  that  ? " 

"  I'm  going  to  agree  to  nothing.  I  only  tell'  you  for 
your  own  interest  that  if  you  insist  on  impossible  con- 
ditions, the  only  thing  that  will  happen  will  be  ex- 
posure ;  and  when  once  that  is  over,  all  your  claims 
won't  be  worth  sixpence." 

"Won't  they?  Won't  they?  Oh,  yes,  they  will. 
I  know  the  old  captain  better  than  that  ;  don't  you 
fear.  But  what  care  I  ?  I  can  earn  my  living  ;  if  I 
choose  to  have  my  revenge  on  the  little  monkey  " — it 
seemed  to  afford  her  infinite  pleasure  to  call  him  by 
abusive  terms,  and  she  repeated  them  at  times  with 
manifest  relish — "I  can  afford  to  pay  for  it.  No,  my 
mind's  made  up  fast  as  an  iron  safe.  If  he  don't  marry 
me,  he  don't  marry  any  one,  and  that's  flat." 

"Then  I  shall  advise  him  to  face  everything  and 
prosecute  you  for  attempting  to  murder  him,''  said 
Dallas,  getting  up  from  his  chair  to  show  that  the  in- 
terview was  at  an  end. 

"Oh,  no,  you  won't,"  she  answered  firmly.     "And 


304  ZTbe  Greatest  Gift. 

if  you  did,  the  captain  wouldn't  ;  and  if  the  captain 
would,  Miss  Margery  wouldn't  marry  him  afterwards. 
See?  You're  only  trying  to  bounce  me.  But  you 
won't  do  it.  Not  quite.  I  tell  you  again,  and  I  mean 
it,  Mr.  Dallas,  as  sure  as  you're  a  gentleman  of  your 
word  and  honor,  if  he  don't  marry  me,  he  don't  marry 
any  one.  Good-bye." 

She  went  to  the  door  and  then  turned  back  to  him. 

"I  should  like  to  shake  hands  with  you,  Mr.  Dallas. 
Do  you  mind?  I  know  you're  true  and  grit  yourself 
for  all  you're  on  such  a  bad  side.  And  I  like  a  man." 

She  held  out  her  hand  and  he  took  it. 

"Don't  forget  what  I  said  about  Miss  Nan.  She's 
got  all  those  flowers  you  ever  gave  her,  and  odds  and 
ends  you've  thought  nothing  of,  maybe.  That's  a 
pretty  sure  sign  with  us.  women.  No,  don't  look  vexed 
and  angry  ;  it's  the  truth.  When  you  marry  her  don't 
forget  it  was  I  helped  to  open  your  eyes.  She's  a 
lucky  girl." 

She  had  held  his  hand  in  her  firm,  strong  grasp  all 
this  time,  and  then  she  dropped  it  suddenly  and  left 
the  room  quickly. 

Hugh  Dallas,  who  had  colored  at  her  words,  look, 
and  gesture,  turned  to  his  desk  with  a  sense  of  dis- 
comfort at  the  awkwardness  and  seeming  absurdity  of 
the  position.  But  his  thoughts  were  busy  with  her 
words  about  Nan. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

HUGH  DALLAS  thought  long  and  carefully  over  his 
interview  with  Esther  Southerst  ;  and  the  more  he 
pondered  it,  the  less  he  liked  the  position  in  which  it 
placed  him. 

If  what  she  said  were  true,  nay,  if  half  or  a  quarter 
of  it  were  true,  it  was  idle  to  pretend  any  longer  that  a 
girl  of  Margery  Allingham's  nature  could  be  anything 
but  utterly  wretched  as  the  wife  of  such  a  man.  If, 
therefore,  knowing  what  he  knew,  he  did  not  interfere, 
he  would  be  sentencing  the  girl  to  lifelong  misery. 
On  the  other  hand,  he  could  not  interfere  without  be- 
traying the  confidence  which  Godfrey  had  placed  in 
him. 

As  for  the  woman  herself,  Esther  Southerst,  he 
summed  up  her  demands  readily. 

"' The  jingling  of  the  guinea  helps  the  hurt  that 
honor  feels,'"  he  mused,  with  a  curl  of  the  lip.  "She 
acts  well ;  but  it  only  means  more  money.  She's  got 
the  whip  hand,  and  she  knows  it,  too.  But  she  can 
be  bought  off  as  easily  as  a  local  politician  ;  but  not 
so  cheaply.  It'll  take  from  £500  to  £1,000  to  close 
those  very. determined  lips  of  hers  ;  and  even  then,  if 
I  were  the  man,  I  shouldn't  feel  over  safe.  What  a 
woman  she  is  :  as  jaunty  as  a  post-office  girl  and  as 
impudent  a§— as  an  advertisement  canvasser.  Won- 
20  305 


306  Ube  Greatest  0ftt. 

der  how  she  gets  her  information  about  the  Manor 
House  ?  " 

Here  he  stopped  speaking  to  himself  and  smiled  as 
he  thought  of  what  she  had  said  about  Nan. 

"  Here,  this  won't  do.  I  shall  moon  the  whole  of 
the  day  away.  But  it's  pleasant  work  running  up 
those  jerry-built  castles  and  just  peopling  them  as  one 
would  wish.  Heigho  !  " 

Then  he  roused  himself,  and  taking  some  paper, 
wrote  to  Godfrey. 

"DEAR  MR.  DRURY, — I  trust  you  are  making  quick 
progress  on  the  up  grade.  I  have  had  an  interview  to- 
day, and  the  result  is  to  leave  the  impression  on  my 
mind  that  the  affair  will  lend  itself  to  some  form  of 
settlement — though  it  may  prove  costly.  A  curious 
condition  has  indeed  been  mentioned  ;  but  I  take  it 
that  it  is  only  intended  to  raise  the  price." 

"I  must  give  the  beggar  a  dig  or  two,"  he  thought 
when  he  had  written  thus  far. 

"  If  what  I  am  told  is  in  any  degree  true,  the  affair 
is  one  which  calls  for  liberal  treatment ;  if  not,  then 
probably  it  might  be  best  to  fight. 

"I  am  sorry  I  cannot  get  to  see  you  ;  but  unfortu- 
nately illness  has  laid  one  of  our  staff  by,  marriage  has 
carried  away  another,  while  a  number  of  most  impor- 
tant matters  have  arranged  to  happen  just  at  this  junc- 
ture.— Yours  sincerely,  HUGH  DALLAS." 

What  he  said  about  the  pressure  of  his  work  was 
aggravated  the  next  day  by  the  discovery  of  some  most 


trbe  Greatest  Gift.  3or 

scandalous  frauds  by  some  well-known  local  public 
men  ;  and  the  difficulty  of  investigation,  coupled  with 
the  close  consideration  of  the  many  charges  against 
the  persons  involved,  required  his  constant  and  unre- 
mitting attention.  Thus  he  dare  not  leave. 

Wednesday's  post  brought  him  a  reply  from  Godfrey. 

"  DEAR  MR.  DALLAS, — I  thank  you  inexpressibly  for 
what  you  have  done  ;  but  you  have  made  me  anxious 
to  hear  all  that  has  passed.  You  have  raised  hopes 
where  despair  was  killing  me.  I  am  like  a  ship- 
wrecked man  on  a  desert  island  who  sees  a  sail  in  the 
distance  and  wonders  if  it  spells  rescue.  Merely  to 
have  secured  your  help  seemed  to  put  fresh  life  into 
me ;  and  now  this  has  made  me  almost  well.  They 
cannot  understand  it  here.  But  ah,  they  do  not  know. 
Pray  God  they  never  will. 

"  What  steps  shall  we  take  next? — Your  sincerest 
friend,  "GODFREY  DRURY." 

"What  a  tangled  skein  of  emotions  is  that  man's 
mind,"  was  Dallas's  comment  on  the  letter.  But  he 
could  do  nothing  that  day  nor  the  next ;  nor  could  he 
venture  to  go  away  for  the  week  end  as  he  had  hoped, 
as  another  member  of  the  staff — one  of  the  sub-editors — 
was  taken  ill. 

On  the  Saturday  came  another  letter  from  the  Manor 
House. 

"  DEAREST  HUGH," — ("  Confound  the  woman,"  cried 
Dallas  angrily,  as  he  read  this  in  Mrs.  Rudyer's  hand- 
writing.)— "  Do  come  over  to-day.  I  am  pining  for  a 
sight  of  you.  If  you  don't  come  to  me,  I  shall  make 


308  tbe  Greatest  <Wtt. 

some  kind  of  excuse  and  go  over  to  you.  I  can't  stand 
being  so  close  to  you  and  yet  never  seeing  you.  If 
you  come  to-day,  I'll  forgive  you  all  your  naughty 
coldness  ;  for  I  shall  know  then  that,  although  for  pro- 
priety's sake  you  keep  up  the  pretense  of  being  distant, 
you  do  really  care." 

"Artful  little  devil,"  said  Dallas,  with  a  suppressed 
grin.  "Knows  I  meant  to  go  over  if  I  could,  and  tries 
to  turn  it  this  way  to  her  own  use.  Good  thing  I  can't 
go.  Good  for  that  at  any  rate." 

"This  place  is  getting  awful.  I  don't  know  what 
you've  done  to  that  dreadful  Godfrey,  but  I  should 
think  you've  bewitched  him.  After  you  left  last  Mon- 
day— and  what  a  long  time  that  does  seem  to  me, 
dearest ;  I  wonder  if  it  does  to  you  ? — he  seemed  to 
get  well  by  magic.  Tuesday  the  girls  told  me  he  had 
a  letter  from  you — though  if  you  could  find  time  to 
write  to  him,  I  do  think  it  unkind  not  to  send  me  even 
a  paper,  just  to  let  me  know  you  are  alive — and  then 
he  seemed  almost  as  cheerful  as  an  ordinary  individual. 
You  see  what  a  power  you  are,  Hugh,  to  raise  one's 
spirits  ;  ah,  don't  I  know  it !  Just  as  I  know  how 
cruel  you  can  be.  Well,  the  house  was  less  like  a 
cemetery  chapel  and  getting  about  as  festive  as  a  ca- 
thedral, till  this  morning,  when  that  dreadful  young 
man  nearly  killed  us  all  at  breakfast — at  least  he  nearly 
did  me  ;  and  even  Nan — though  she  hasn't  much  sym- 
pathy, which  isn't,  of  course,  her  fault,  for  people 
can't  help  their  natures,  can  they  ? — looked  less  frigid 
than  usual.  She's  wonderfully  changed  lately,  has 


ftbe  (Bteatest  <£ift  sod 

Nan  ;  and  the  only  time  she  ever  brightens  up  is  when 
that  Mr.  Momerie  comes  over,  and  of  course  that's 
only  natural,  because  Guy  tells  me  he  thinks  they're 
secretly  engaged  already,  though  why  secretly  I  can't 
imagine,  for  of  course  he's  very  rich  and  in  every  way 
a  splendid  match  for  her,  because  she  has  nothing,  and 
of  course  is  not  much  to  look  at,  though  you  did  at 
one  time  care  to  flirt  with  her,  until  I  asked  you  as  a 
favor  not  to  do  anything  of  the  kind.  Well,  I  suppose 
poor  Mr.  Godfrey  had  some  unpleasant  letters  or  some- 
thing, for  as  soon  as  he'd  opened  and  read  one  of  them, 
he  gave  a  great  cry  and  went  as  white  as  the  table- 
cloth, and  you  know  he's  never  very  nice  to  look  at 
when  he  goes  white  ;  the  blueness  round  his  eyes  and 
at  his  temples  makes  him  look  horrid,  and  when  his 
lips  all  go  blue,  and  to-day  they  were  perfectly  livid, 
and  his  nose  was  all  drawn  and  lined,  you've  seen  how 
the  nostrils  dilate,  because  your  sharp  eyes  see  every- 
thing— except  my  feelings — and  he  looked  awful.  I 
declare  I  thought  he  swallowed  something  and  it  had 
gone  the  wrong  way,  till  I  remembered  it  would  have 
made  him  red,  not  white  ;  and  he  was  as  white  as 
white,  and  sat  in  his  chair  with  his  fists  clenched  and 
his  teeth  chattering  like  any  one  with  ague,  and  all  the 
time  he  glared  at  Margery — who  hadn't  done  a  thing 
— until,  if  it  had  been  at  me,  I  should  have  been  fright- 
ened, or  else  have  gone  and  shaken  him.  She  went 
to  him  ;  you  know  what  a  kind,  patient,  meek  soul 
she  is— too  meek  I  think  ;  it  doesn't  do  to  give  way  to 
all  your  tantrums,  you  men.  There,  what  do  you 
think  of  that  for  independence?  But  I'd  give  way  to 
yours,  Hugh — and  he  jumped  up  and  twisted  away 


6 10  Ube  Greatest  6ift. 

from  her,  as  if  she  were  a  plague,  and  limped  out  of 
the  room.  She  followed  him  of  course,  and  we  heard 
him — I  think  he  swore  at  her,  but  I  didn't  say  what  I 
thought,  and  coughed  lest  it  should  reach  Nan's  or 
Guy's  ears.  Any  way,  she  came  in  looking  awfully 
white  and  shocked  and  trembling,  and  after  exchang- 
ing a  look  with  Nan — and  from  having  been  unmoved 
before  Nan  had  gone  quite  red — she  sat  down  and  went 
on  with  breakfast,  just  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  I 
don't  know  what  it  was,  and  when  I  asked  Margery, 
she  wouldn't  say  a  word.  She  is  so  funny.  Of  course 
it's  no  concern  of  mine,  but  I  can  only  say  that  the 
place  isn't  bearable  now.  If  you  don't  come  over  and 
see  me  soon  I  sha'n't  be  able  to  stay.  Do  come. — 
Ever  yours,  BEATRICE. 

"  P.  S. — I  forgot  to  say  that  Nan  asked  me  this  after- 
noon whether  you  were  Coming  over?  I  was  glad  of 
this,  though  I  don't  know  why  she  should  seem  anx- 
ious about  your  coming.  Still,  it  shows  that  they  see 
here  who  is  likely  to  know  most  about  your  move- 
ments. 

"P.P.S. — I  open  this  to  say  that  that  queer  creature, 
Godfrey,  hearing  that  I  was  writing  to  you — though 
how  it  can  have  got  about  that  you  and  I  correspond 
I  hardly  know,  I've  not  said  much  about  it — has  just 
asked  me  whether  you  are  coming  over  to-morrow. 
He  looks  awfully  wild  and  curious,  and  I  have  a  no- 
tion  that  there's  been  an  awful  row  between  him  and 
Margery  this  afternoon.  I  caught  Margery  silently 
weeping,  and  you  know,  whatever  her  weaknesses  may 
be,  she's  not  weepy ;  and  I  rather  think  Guy  was  in  it 


Ube  Greatest  (Sift  311 

in  some  way,  for  I  heard  him  storming-  about  in  his 
boyish  way.  But  I  suppose  it  can't  have  been  much, 
or  I  should  have  heard  something  definite,  and  no  one 
has  told  me  a  word.  Do  come  over.  "  BEE." 

"  Can  she  have  begun  again  ?  "  he  mused,  thinking 
of  Esther  Southerst.  "  Who  can  it  be  who  keeps  her 
going  as  to  what  happens  at  the  place  ?  It  must  be 
one  of  the  servants.  Depend  upon  it,  that's  what  it 
means.  He's  had  a  letter  from  her,  and  it's  unnerved 
him.  What  the  deuce  is  the  line  she's  taking  now  ? 
Evidently  it's  put  him  off  the  balance  with  Margery. 
I  have  it.  She's  driven  another  peg  in  about  Alan.  I 
wish  I  could  go  over.  One  thing,  he's  got  my  letter 
this  morning  saying  definitely  that  I  can't  go.  I  shall 
hear  something  during  the  clay.  Now,  what  shall  I 
do  about  this  artful  little  fool?  "  He  picked  up  Mrs. 
Rudyers  letter  and  put  it  back  in  the  envelope. 
"Shall  I  return  it?  No,  by  Jove,  if  I  do  she'll  flourish 
the  envelope  around,  and  make  out  that  I've  written 
her  a  long  love-letter.  I'll  keep  it  and  give  it  back  to 
her." 

He  put  it  in  his  pocket  and  turned  to  the  consider- 
ation of  some  papers  that  lay  on  his  desk.  But  a  few 
minutes  later  he  broke  off,  and.  pushing  back  his 
chair,  paced  the  room  slowly,  thinking  anxiously. 

"  Beastly  awkward,"  he  muttered.  "  If  that  infernal 
woman  has  fired  the  flame  of  that  fellow's  jealousy, 
and,  as  isn't  at  all  unlikely,  has  gone  one  point  better 
in  her  last  letter,  and  hinted  Alan's  name,  I  can't  get 
him  to  go  to  the  Manor  House,  and  tell  the  truth 
about  this  supposed  engagement.  I  can't  go  myself, 


312  Ube  Greatest  <5itt. 

and  so  the  lie  gets  all  the  benefit  of  a  long  start,  that'll 
make  it  all  the  harder  to  catch.  Dash  it  !  " — this  with 
a  smile  of  vexation  which  hardened  on  his  face  into  an 
expression  of  rather  cynical  annoyance — "she  can't 
be  such  a  fool  as  to  think  she's  going  to  worry  me  into 
marrying  her  with  all  this  tomfoolery  of  pretended 
affection.  I  don't  know.  She's  a  resolute  little 
monkey  when  her  back's  up.  She  may.  Well,  any- 
how, I'm  hanged  if  I  can  see  my  way  to  do  anything 
but  just  let  things  slide  till  I  can  get  away.  Gad,  I 
shall  open  her  eyes  by  and  by  with  a  vengeance. 
She'll  drive  me  to  show  her  up  in  earnest  yet." 

Soon  afterwards  he  went  back  to  his  work  again,  but 
was  restless  and  uneasy  ;  and  this  continued  until  he 
had  to  go  out  to  an  interview,  at  which  certain  impor- 
tant decisions  in  respect  to  the  matters  of  the  frauds 
were  expected  to  be  made. 

When  he  came  back  some  two  hours  later  he  found 
a  telegram  : 

"  Am  ill  and  desperate.  Can  you  not  possibly  come 
over  if  only  for  an  hour  ?  Something  is  miserably 
wrong  somewhere.  ' '  GODFREY  DRURY.  " 

This  message  increased  Dallas's  anxiety,  but  the 
meeting  which  he  had  just  been  to  made  his  presence 
in  the  town  more  needed  than  ever.  He  wireda short 
reply  : 

"Regret.     Quite  impossible.     Write  me.     DALLAS." 

He'  had  scarcely  sent  it  off  when  an  office  messenger 
entered. 


Ube  Greatest  <Wft.  313 

"A  lady  to  see  you,  sir." 

"  A  lady  ?  Who  is  it  ?  "  he  answered,  his  thoughts 
flying  immediately  to  Mrs.  Rudyer. 

"  She  didn't  give  her  name,  sir." 

"Well,  I  can  see  nobody  to-day.  I  am  for  too 
busily  engaged.  Tell  the  lady  she  must  write  to  me. 

The  lad  went  away,  but  returned  after  a  minute. 

"  The  lady  says  her  business  is  most  important  and 
private.  Here's  her  name,  sir,"  and  he  handed  a  slip 
of  paper  to  Dallas. 

"  Show  her  in  at  once,"  said  the  latter,  as  he  glaned 
at  the  slip  of  paper,  and  read  the  name  "Esther 
Southerst." 

The  woman  came  in  with  her  usual  jaunty  air. 

"You  didn't  expect  to  see  me  again  so  soon,  did 
you  ? "  she  asked  smiling,  and  showing  her  white 
teeth. 

"  No,"  answered  Dallas  shortly,  "  and  as  I  am  ex- 
ceedingly busy,  you  must  please  to  say  quickly  what 
you  have  to  say." 

"I  don't  know  about  quickly.  Strikes  me  you'll 
want  to  ask  a  question  or  two  before  I've  done.  How- 
ever, you  can  take  your  own  time.  Why  didn't  you 
go  to  Seacove  this  week  ?  They  were  all  expecting 
you  ;  and  Mrs.  Rudyer  made  cock  sure  of  it." 

"Please  say  what  you  have  to  say,  and  leave  my 
movements  alone,"  answered  Dallas  sharply,  with  an 
impatient  wave  of  the  hand. 

"They  are  though,  as  you'll  very  soon  see,"  she 
returned  confidently.  "I  expected  you'd  be  there, 
and  therefore  I  meant  to  hurry  matters  up.  I  know 
Godfrey  ;  and  I  know  the  need  there  is  to  keep  dig- 


314  tTbe  (Breatest  6fft 

ging  at  him  in  a  sore  place.  I  dug  hard  this  time  ; 
for  I  reckoned  you'd  be  there  to  clap  a  plaster  on  if 
necessary.  And  as  you're  not  there,  and  not  going 
there  to-day,  there's  just  the  devil  and  all  to  pay." 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  my  good  soul,  say  what  you 
want  to  say  in  plain  language  that  I  can  understand, 
and  then  go  away.  I've  no  time  to  spare,"  he  said 
impatiently. 

"Well,  you'll  have  to  find  some,  that's  all, "  was 
the  calm  reply.  "Here's  what  I've  done.  I  didn't 
feel  over  satisfied  with  my  interview  with  you,  and 
when  I  heard  that  that  little  limping  bantam  was  out 
of  his  bed  and  getting  well  fast,  I  wrote  to  him.  You 
thought  I  was  after  money  and  nothing  else,  didn't 
you  ?  and  when  I  thought  over  what  you  said,  I 
thought  an  eye-opener  for  you  might  be  handy  as  well. 
You  see  I'm  not  after  money  ;  I  want  my  pretty  hus- 
band,"— she  laughed  at  this  ;  and  Dallas  made  a  ges- 
ture of  impatience.  "All  right,  let  me  take  my  time  ; 
it'll  be  quicker  in  the  long  run.  Well,  I  wrote  to  him 
and  told  him  that  you  were  off  the  track ;  that  I  didn't 
want  money  but  wanted  him,  and  meant  to  have  him  ; 
and  that  he  needn't  be  too  much  put  out  about  it  all 
because,  as  I'd  put  in  my  unsigned  letter  to  him,  his 
pretty  lady-love  was  in  love  with  somebody  else,  and 
that  that  somebody  was  young  Squire  Ramsay  ;  and 
I  added  one  or  two  little  things  which  I  knew  of  the 
two,  and  told  him  if  he  didn't  believe  me,  he  could  ask 
either  or  both  of  them.  See  ?  "  and  when  she  stopped, 
she  fixed  her  dark  eyes  on  Dallas  and  nodded. 

' '  Go  on,"  he  said  sternly. 

"Yes,    you're   right.      There's    more    to   come.     I 


Greatest  Gift  315 

don't  do  things  by  halves  when  I  mean  business,"  she 
continued,  her  face  growing  very  stern  and  deter- 
mined ;  "sol  followed  up  my  letter  by  going  over 
there  myself.  I  got  over  last  night  and  let  him  know 
at  once  I  was  there  and  meant  to  see  him — and  there, 
don't  you  see,  I  made  a  mistake.  I  reckoned  you'd 
be  over,  and  that  I  should  get  you  two  together  some- 
time to-day.  But  I  didn't  thread  the  needle,  for  all 
my  blessed  cleverness  and  planning — you  can't  always 
do  it  first  try.  For  one  thing,  you  didn't  go  over  ;  and 
for  the  second,  that  littlejackanapes  went  nearly  off  his 
head  after  that  letter  of  mine  had  raised  a  devil  in  him 
which  no  one  about  him  knew  lived  there  ;  and  he 
dropped  into  that  moody,  broody,  sulky  state  that  he 
gets  into  when  he  can't  have  his  own  way  and  there's 
nobody  about  that  he  can  jolly  well  thrash.  I  saw  him 
— he  dared  not  refuse  to  come  to  me,  you  see — but  I 
did  no  good  with  him.  He's  just  like  a  madman  ;  fact 
he  is  one  ;  he's  just  what  he  was  when  he  came  to  me 
once  and  meant  making  an  end  of  me.  Have  you  ever 
seen  him  when  the  devil's  in  him  ?  " 

"  Go  on  with  what  you  have  to  say." 

"  Well,  if  you  haven't,  you  can't  tell  what  a  raging 
little  beast  it  is.  I've  seen  him  stamp  and  tear  and 
kick  and  beat  things — anything  that  thwarts  him — and 
he's  as  cunning  as  the  devil  with  it  all.  I've  seen 
him  like  it  with  a  dog — seen  him  beat  it  and  stamp  on 
it,  till  I've  turned  sick  and  had  to  take  him  and  hold 
him  for  minutes  together  and  coax  him  to  get  him 
round.  I  could  do  it  then. "  She  said  this  with  almost 
the  only  touch  of  softness  in  her  face  and  voice  that 
Dallas  had  ever  noticed  when  she  spoke  of  Godfrey. 


316  ttbe  Greatest  Gift 

"And  that's  why  I've  come  over  to  see  you.  He's 
not  safe. " 

"What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"What  I  say.  He's  not  safe.  He  ought  to  be 
watched  ,  for  there's  no  one  in  the  whole  house  who 
knows  him  or  knows  what  he  may  do." 

"Nonsense,  my  good  woman.  Don't  come  here 
with  such  a  rubbishy  story." 

Esther  Southerst  drew  herself  up  and  looked  hard  at 
Dallas,  then  she  leant  right  forward  towards  him  and 
spoke  in  a  low  tone,  full  of  strange,  vibrating  earnest- 
ness. 

"Don't  mistake  me,  Mr.  Dallas.  I  know  what  I  am 
saying.  I  know  that  about  Godfrey  which  no  one  in 
the  Manor  House  knows,  except  that  poor  old  man, 
his  father.  I'm  not  so  hard  a  woman  that  I  haven't 
pitied  that  brave  old  soul  a  hundred  times.  Do  you 
know  the  secret  that  he  carries  about  with  him  that 
has  made  his  whole  life  full  of  gloom  and  sorrow  ? " 

"I  have  no  wish  to  know  any  secrets  of  his," 
answered  Dallas. 

The  woman  paused  again. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  the  cause  why  Godfrey  is  a 
cripple  ? "  she  asked. 

Dallas  held  up  his  hand  with  a  deprecating  gesture. 

"Ah,  then,  it's  time  you  did,"  said  the  woman 
dryly.  ' '  That's  the  old  man's  secret.  His  mother  died 
a  raving  lunatic  in  an  asylum,  some  years  after  she 
had  crippled  the  boy  for  life  when  trying  to  kill  him 
by  hurling  him  out  of  the  top  window  in  her  mad- 
ness. That's  why  I  say  he  must  be  watched.  He's 
mad. " 


Greatest  Gift  317 

"Good  heavens!"  exclaimed  Dallas;  "do  you 
mean  that  ? " 

"Ah,  I  thought  it  would  shake  you  up  a  bit  that. 
Yes,  I  do  mean  it.  And  I  mean  more.  I've  seen  him 
mad — as  mad  as  he  could  be  for  three  days,  when 
he  tried  to  murder  me ;  and  what's  more,  I've 
driven  him  now  into  that  state  with  this  last  step  of 
mine,  plunging  him  back  into  despair  and  jealousy, 
after  I  suppose  you  had  set  him  flourishing  with  hope, 
that  he's  not  to  be  trusted  without  some  one  about  the 
place  who  knows  what  to  watch  him  for.  I've  come 
over  to  tell  you,  because  I  feel  just  positive  that  if  he 
takes  the  fit  into  his  head,  that  girl's  life,  Lord  bless 
you,  wouldn't  be  worth  a  day's  purchase — either  of 
the  sisters  for  that  matter — if  he  took  the  fancy.  I 
know  him.  I  tell  you  he's  fairly  mad  with  jealousy 
and  blind  rage." 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THERE  was  clearly  but  one  possible  course  open. 

Hugh  Dallas  felt  that  at  any  cost  he  must  go  to  the 
Manor  House  that  day.  He  wired  that  he  would  be 
over  late  in  the  evening,  and  immediately  set  about 
making  arrangements  to  enable  him  to  leave  the 
office. 

Then  he  wired  to  Alan  Ramsay  not  to  go  to  the 
Manor  House,  but  to  expect  him  first  thing  on  the 
following  morning  at  Garthorne.  He  felt  that  if  by 
chance  Alan  should  happen  to  go  there,  Godfrey  might 
be  driven  to  some  extreme  of  rage,  and  that  mischief 
might  result. 

He  had  a  very  ugly  business  in  front  of  him,  and  he 
was  very  anxious  as  to  what  line  to  take.  So  far  as  he 
could  judge,  there  were  two  alternative  courses.  The 
first  was  to  deal  with  Esther  Southerst.  and  thus  be 
able  to  free  Godfrey's  mind  from  the  chief  anxiety  that 
was  preying  upon  it,  and  then  trust  to  whatever  might 
happen  to  explain  away  the  jealousy  which  she  had 
roused.  That  was  the  course  he  preferred  ;  but  it  de- 
pended upon  whether  she  could  really  be  bought  off 
on  any  terms  ;  and  having  had  this  in  his  thoughts,  he 
had  sent  her  away  with  instructions  to  return  in  an 
hour. 
The  alternative  to  this  was  to  tell  the  captain  every- 


Ube  Greatest  (Bift  aid 

thing  about  the  relations  between  Godfrey  and  Esther 
Southerst — everything,  indeed,  except  about  the  love 
between  Margery  and  Alan.  But  the  thought  of  hav- 
ing to  inflict  this  pain  upon  him  was  distressing.  •  At 
the  same  time,  he  told  himself,  the  occasion  was  one 
so  serious  and  critical  that  the  remedy  must  be  drastic. 
If  he  satisfied  himself  that  Godfrey's  mind  was  really 
unhinged,  the  latter  must  at  least  be  watched,  even  if 
he  were  not  put  under  restraint ;  and  the  only  person 
to  whom  he  could  possibly  speak  on  that  subject  was 
the  captain. 

When  Esther  Southerst  came  back,  Dallas  went  at 
once  to  the  kernel  of  the  matter. 

"Tell  me  on  what  terms  you  will  cease  this  cruel 
persecution." 

"  You  want  a  straight  answer?  "  she  said. 

"  Of  course." 

"On  none  except  what  I  told  you  before.  If  he 
won't  marry  me,  he  marries  no  one  else.  If  he  sticks 
to  his  refusal  to  marry  me,  then  he  must  make  me  a 
proper  allowance." 

"  Ah,  I  see,  it's  a  matter  of  money  ?  " 

"It's  not  a  matter  of  money,"  she  said,  turing  on 
him  vindictively,  "at  least,  so  far  as  his  marriage  is 
concerned.  I  swear  to  you  that  no  sum  of  money  you 
can  name  can  buy  my  consent  to  his  marrying  any  one 
else." 

"Why?  What  on  earth  can  it  matter  to  you?  If 
he  does  not  marry  you,  what  difference  can  it  make 
what  he  does  ?  Take  a  hundred  pounds  and  go  your 
way,  and  marry  someone  in  your  own  station." 

"  I  won't  take  a  thousand  pounds — no,  nor  ten  thou- 


320  KTbe  Greatest  c&tft 

sand  either, "  she  cried  fiercely.  ' '  If  you  say  any  more 
to  try  and  buy  me  off,  I  won't  stop  here." 

"  Well,  but  don't  you  see  how  foolish  you  are,  and 
how  you  stand  in  your  own  light?  If  once  this  secret 
is  made  known,  your  power  will  be  gone.  You  may 
think  you  will  turn  Miss  Allingham  against  him,  but 
you  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  So  that  you  will  not 
stop  the  marriage,  and  will  lose  any  claim  upon  the 
generosity  of  the  family. " 

"Generosity!  "  she  sneered,  her  thin  lips  curling. 
"  I'm  not  a  beggar.  Here,  stop  it,"  she  cried  angrily. 
"  I  won't  have  any  more  of  it.  My  heavens  !  haven't 
you  seen  enough  of  me  in  this  room  to  know  that  that 
little  devil  will  be  afraid  to  move  a  finger  in  this  mar- 
riage, whether  the  secret's  known  or  not,  without  me? 
Are  you  fool  enough  to  think  that  that  marriage  was 
postponed  because  he  was  hurt  ?  Bah  !  it  was  funk, 
sheer  funk ;  and  the  thing  was  put  off  so  that  I  might 
be  got  to  consent.  That  was  why  he  got  well  so 
quickly  when  he  thought  you  had  succeeded  ;  and 
that's  why  he's  precious  nearly  mad  now  he  knows 
the  whole  thing's  off  again.  He  knows  me,  if  you 
don't ;  and  he's  jolly  well  sure  his  little  rat's  life 
wouldn't  be  worth  a  silver  sixpence  if  he  set  me  at  de- 
fiance. Don't  you  make  any  mistake  !  And  now  my 
last  word  is  that  he  sha'n't  marry — sha'n't,  sha'n't,  do 
you  hear  ?  " 

And  from  that  determination  nothing  that  Dallas 
could  say  availed  to  move  her.  He  tried  every  per- 
suasion he  could  think  of,  but  all  to  no  purpose. 
Whenever  he  showed  her  that  she  would  be  a  loser  by 
the  matter  being  exposed,  she  laughed  at  him,  and  re- 


Ube  Greatest  Gift,  ssi 

plied  that  she  was  perfectly  well  aware  that  the  cap- 
tain would  not  let  that  be  the  case. 

He  started  for  Seacove  with  the  plain  assurance  that 
he  must  either  persuade  Godfrey  to  give  up  the  mar- 
riage— and  he  felt  the  impossibility  of  this — or  make  a 
clean  breast  of  everything  to  the  captain. 

Captain  Drury  met  him  at  the  station,  and  it  was 
plain  to  see  that  he  was  suffering  keenly.  He  looked 
very  worried  and  so  depressed  that  Dallas  was  much 
affected.  On  the  way  from  the  station — the  captain 
was  driving — very  little  was  said. 

"It's  very  good  of  you  to  come  over.  I'm  afraid 
it's  a  great  inconvenience  ;  but  I  felt  very  glad  when 
your  telegram  came.  My  poor  boy  is  not  at  all  well 
— not  at  all.  I  don't  know  what  it  can  be.  I  want  to 
have  a  chat  with  you  about  it  when  you've  seen  him. 
He  won't  have  a  doctor ;  and  I  don't  know  that  a 
doctor  would  do  him  any  good." 

"  I  was  afraid  he  was  not  well,  though  he  seemed 
to  get  on  pretty  well  in  the  early  part  of  the  week, 
didn't  he?" 

"Yes,  a  good  deal  better.  I  suppose  Mrs.  Rudyer 
told  you,  did  she  ?  I  heard  she  was  writing  now  and 
then.  She's  been  very  kind  ;  but  I'm  afraid  it's  been 
a  trying  week  for  her." 

He  seemed  to  think  he  ought  to  make  excuses  to 
Dallas  on  her  account. 

"  This  is  no  time  to  enter  into  my  matters  or  the 
mistakes  which  you  all  seem  to  have  made  in  regard 
to  Mrs.  Rudyer  and  myself,"  answered  Dallas,  with  a 
feeling  of  impotent  irritation  that  that  subject  always 
seemed  to  be  mentioned  at  a  time  and  in  a  manner 

2J 


323  Ube  Greatest  Gift 

which  made  explanation  of  the  mistake  difficult  or  im- 
possible. "  How  did  you  notice  any  change  in  your 
son  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  We'll  talk  it  all  over  after  youVe  seen  him,  Mr. 
Dallas.  I'd  rather  that  you  saw  him  first  and  formed 
your  own  opinion  without  a  word  from  me.  But  I 
wish — there,  I  don't  know — "  He  hesitated,  stopped, 
and  then  resumed.  "Yes,  I'd  better  say  it.  I  wish 
if  you  can  get  a  chance  while  you  see  him,  and  there's 
anything  that  I  could  be  told  or  could  know  or  do — that 
you'd  get  him  to  tell  me,  or  be  able  to  tell  me  yourself. 
We  used  to  have  no  secrets  at  all,  the  lad  and  I ;  but 
somehow — I  don't  know  how" — and  he  sighed — "a 
something  seems  to  have  crept  in  between  us.  Poor 
lad  !  " 

He  said  no  more,  and  Dallas  was  also  silent,  until 
they  reached  the  Manor  House. 

In  the  hall,  Margery,  looking  pale  and  worn,  met 
them,  and  thanked  Dallas  with  one  of  her  sweet  smiles 
for  coming  over.  Then  Nan  came  forward  from  where 
she  had  heen  hovering  in  the  background,  and  shook 
hands  ;  and  as  their  hands  touched,  despite  the  gloom 
of  the  moment  and  the  errand  on  which  he  had  gone 
over,  a  recollection  of  Esther  Southerst's  words  flashed 
across  his  memory,  and  warmed  the  glance  with  which 
his  eyes  sought  and  held  hers.  He  noticed,  too,  that 
she  colored  as  she  turned  away. 

The  next  minute  he  was  following  the  captain  to  the 
room  where  Godfrey  was. 

It  was  easy  to  see  that  the  cripple  was  ill  both  in 
mind  and  body.  When  the  captain  and  Dallas  entered 
the  room,  he  looked  round  with  a  startled,  nervous 


ttbe  Greatest  <3fft  323 

manner,  as  if  anticipating  some  unwelcome  visitor, 
and  a  look  of  intense  relief  appeared  on  his  face  when 
he  saw  that  it  was  Hugh  Dallas. 

"  I'm  not  very  well,"  he  said,  in  reply  to  a  question 
when  they  shook  hands.  Then  he  looked  at  his  father 
as  if  waiting  impatiently  for  him  to  go. 

The  old  man  noticed  the  look. 

"I  thought  you'd  like  to  see  Mr.  Dallas  as  soon  as 
he  arrived,  Godfrey,'' he  said.  "Shall  I  leave  you 
together  ? " 

"Yes,  father  ;  and  don't  let  any  one  come  bothering 
here  till  I  ring  or  call." 

He  went  to  the  door  with  the  captain,  and  as  soon 
as  the  latter  left,  the  cripple  closed  it  after  him.  Then 
he  came  back  slowly  to  where  Hugh  Dallas  sat,  and 
stood  before  him,  looking  fixedly  into  his  face. 

' '  Well  ?  "  said  Dallas  gravely. 

"There  is  nothing  well,"  answered  the  other  im- 
petuously. "All  is  bad — as  bad  as  it  can  be." 

He  took  three  hasty  turns  up  and  down  the  room, 
biting  his  nails  with  agitation.  Then  he  came  again 
and  stood  before  Dallas,  and  said,  with  sudden  and 
vehement  anger  : 

"Have  you  deceived  me,  or  have  you  been  de- 
ceived ?  " 

' '  Neither,"  answered  Dallas  quietly.  "  In  what  way 
do  you  mean  ?  " 

"I  mean  about  Alan  Ramsay.  Is  he  an  old  lover 
of  Margery  ?  Does  she  love  him?  Is  she  marrying 
me  out  of  pity,  contemptuous,  hateful,  damnable 
pity  ?  "  he  cried  vehemently,  working  up  his  excite- 
ment and  anger  as  he  spoke. 


324  Ube  Greatest  Gift 

"What  has  put  this  into  your  head?"  asked 
Dallas. 

"That's  it.  That's  just  it,"  he  exclaimed,  with  a 
violent  gesture.  "  Fight  shy  of  the  question,  answer 
it  by  another,  like  a  d — d  Welshman.  Fence  with  it  ; 
parry  it ;  guard  it  ;  and  laugh  at  me  in  your  sleeve." 
He  was  striding  up  and  down  the  room  as  he  spoke, 
throwing  his  hands  about.  "Good  God,  man,  can't 
you  say  yes  or  no  ?  Is  Margery  Allingham  in  love 
with  Alan  Ramsay  ?  Do  you  know  it,  or  think  it,  or 
believe  it?  Can't  you  say  yes  or  no  to  that?" 

"It  is  no  concern  of  mine  whatever,"  answered 
Dallas,  rather  curtly.  "It  is  not  a  matter  on  which  I 
could  have  any  knowledge  of  my  own  ;  and  for  me 
to  express  any  thoughts  or  belief  would  be  simply 
impertinence." 

The  cripple  stopped  and  looked  into  Dallas's  face, 
and  then  burst  into  an  angry  laugh. 

"Impertinence,  aye,  anything  to  evade  the  point. 
Impertinence  !  The  same  sort  of  impertinence,  I  sup- 
pose, that  if  you  saw  a  poor  devil  drowning  would 
prevent  your  catching  him  by  the  hair  or  the  throat 
in  order  to  save  his  life.  You  don't  see,  do  you,  that 
this  is  a  life  and  death  matter  to  me,  and  so  you  talk 
about  impertinence.  I  thought  you  were  a  friend." 

He  spoke  with  concentrated  bitterness,  and  then 
with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders  and  a  contemptuous 
sneer,  he  resumed  his  rapid  walk. 

"Why  on  earth  is  it  that  not  a  soul  in  the  house 
will  give  me  a  straightforward  answer?  Why  can  it 
be,  except  that  they  don't  like  to  lie  to  me,  and  won't 
tell  me  the  truth — out  of  this  infernal  feeling  of  d — d 


Ube  Greatest  6itt.  325 

sniveling  pity.  Is  there  a  conspiracy  among  you 
all?"  He  spoke  very  wildly,  and  gesticulated  furi- 
ously. 

"What  grounds  have  you  for  all  this  nonsense?" 
asked  Dallas  sternly. 

"Read  that  and  see,"  replied  Godfrey,  thrusting  a 
letter,  creased,  thumbed,  and  crumpled  with  much 
fingering  into  his  hand. 

He  unfolded  it  and  read  it. 

"I  hear  you  are  better,  and  are  again  thinking  of 
marriage.  Give  it  up.  You  are  only  fooling  yourself. 
You  are  mine,  and  nothing  will  ever  release  you. 
Your  friend,  Mr.  Dallas  thinks  I  can  be  bought  off, 
and  he  will  probably  tell  you  so.  He  is  wrong.  I  am 
not  for  sale.  You  ought  to  know  that. 

"  Godfrey,  you  must  give  this  marriage  up.  If  you 
were  to  go  on  with  it,  you'd  only  be  wronging  the  girl 
as  well  as  me.  She  doesn't  love  you  ;  I  told  you  that 
when  I  wrote  to  you  without  putting  my  name  to  it. 
I  told  you  she  loved  another  man.  I  repeat  that. 
The  man  is  young  Squire  Ramsay.  If  you  don't 
believe  me,  ask  her  and  ask  him.  Ask  whether  they 
were  not  all  but  engaged  to  be  married  ?  Ask  whether 
she  usen't  to  keep  a  lot  of  little  keepsakes  of  his  in  a 
little  packet  in  her  mother's  desk  ?  She  won't  deny  it, 
though  she  may  try  and  fence  with  the  questions,  for 
she  wants  to  make  believe  that  she's  in  love  with  you. 
Fancy  that,  with  you,  when  a  real  man  like  Squire 
Ramsay  is  contrasted  with  you.  Even  you  can  tell 
whether  a  girl's  likely  to  prefer  you  to  such  a  MAN  as 
him.  I  suppose  she  pities  you  for  your  shape  and 


326  Ube  Greatest  Offt. 

that.     But  it  don't  matter   what  her  motive  is — good, 
bad,  or  foolery — she's  not  going  to  marry  you. 

"I  shall  follow  this  letter  myself,  and  let  you  know 
where  to  find  me  at  Seacove. — Your  wife  that  means 
to  be,  "ESTHER." 

It  was  a  cruel  letter,  and  as  clever  as  cruel.  Writ- 
ten just  in  the  form  likely  to  stab  the  man  most  deeply  ; 
and  as  Dallas  read  it  and  handed  it  back  to  the  other, 
knowing  his  nature,  he  pitied  him  intensely.  As  God- 
frey took  it,  he  glanced  again  at  the  closing  sentences, 
comparing  him  with  Alan  Ramsay,  and  he  seemed  to 
writhe  with  the  torture  they  inflicted. 

"Now  you  see  why  I  ask?"  he  said,  hoarsely  and 
nervously,  as  soon  as  he  recovered  self-possession 
enough  to  speak.  "The  she-devil!  I  wish  to  God 
she  was  in  my  power,"  and  he  clanched  his  fists  and 
raised  them  high  above  his  head.  "The  she-devil! 
Is  it  true,  Mr.  Dallas — is  it  true,  do  you  think  ? "  he 
cried,  altering  his  manner  with  startling  suddenness  to 
piteous  entreaty. 

"I  should  say  not,  from  what  I  have  seen  ;  but  I, 
of  course,  know  nothing,"  answered  Dallas. 

The  cripple  cast  on  him  along,  searching,  appealing 
glance,  in  which  the  pain  and  anguish  seemed  to  speak 
through  his  eyes  ;  and  then  turning  away,  he  threw 
himself  into  a  chair  and  covered  his  face  with  his 
hands,  in  distressing  emotion. 

His  companion  waited  silently  for  the  fit  of  passion 
to  pass.  He  was  much  moved  by  the  great  anguish 
which  Godfrey  was  enduring,  and  he  noted  how  thin 
and  white  and  wan  he  had  grown.  This  great  emo- 


6reatest  (Bift.  327 

tion  made  the  task  he  had  to  perform  all  the  more  try- 
ing ;  but  what  he  had  seen  already  forced  upon  him 
the  extreme  need  of  finding  some  form  of  solution. 

When  the  mental  storm  had  subsided,  Godfrey  ap- 
peared less  excited  than  he  had  been  before,  and  made 
a  great  effort  at  self-composure. 

"I  am  not  myself,"  he  said.  "  Excuse  me  if  I  seem 
wild  or  passionate,  but  I  have  been  suffering  so  bitterly 
that  I  scarce  know  what  I  am  doing.  I  will  try  for  a 
moment  to  get  away  from  the  hell  which  that  woman's 
letter  raises  whenever  I  think  of  it.  Tell  me  what  she 
said  to  you.  She  told  you  something  of  what  had  passed 
between  us,  I  presume,  and  some  fanciful  tale  about 
my  being  pledged  to  marry  her.  She  is  a  liar,  but  a 
good  deal  of  it  is  true.  Never  mind  that.  Will  she 
release  me  ?  You  said  in  your  letter  you  thought  she 
would." 

He  waited  with  intense  eagerness  written  on  his  face. 

"  I  thought  so  when  I  wrote.  I  thought  she  had  a 
price,  but — "1 

"  But  what  ?  "  interrupted  Godfrey,  frowning  in  im- 
patience. 

"  I  have  seen  her  again  to-day,  and  now  she  swears 
that  nothing  shall  make  her  yield  her  claims — nothing 
but  one  condition.'' 

"What  is  that?  what  is  that?"  he  cried,  leaning 
forward,  while  his  eyes  opened  to  their  widest  extent 
and  his  lips  parted  with  the  strain  of  an  almost  ravenous 
anxiety.  "Tell  me  quickly,  for  God's  sake." 

"That  if  you  will  not  marry  her,  you  pledge  your- 
self not  to  marry  any  one." 

"What?"    he  asked. 


328  Ube  Greatest  Gift, 

It  seemed  at  first  as  if  he  had  not  understood  the  full 
meaning  of  the  condition,  dwelling-  too  much  on  the 
fact  that  there  was  one  possible  means  of  escape.  He 
got  up  from  his  chair  and  went  to  the  mantelpiece, 
und  rested  his  hands  on  it,  and  leaned  his  forehead  on 
them. 

Then  Dallas  saw  him  shiver  and  tremble  as  if  the 
truth  had  forced  itself  upon  him.  He  lifted  his  head, 
and  turned  his  face  toward  Dallas,  his  large  eyes  full 
of  melancholy,  which  touched  the  stronger  man  to  the 
heart. 

"That  would  mean  that  I  must  give  up  Margery  ?  " 
he  asked,  his  voice  hollow  and  trembling  and  low. 

"She  will  be  satisfied  with  nothing  else,"  replied 
Dallas. 

The  cripple  paused,  and  leant  his  head  again  in  his 
hands. 

"And  you — what  do  you  advise? -'  he  asked,  with- 
out  looking  round. 

"I  see  no  other  course — unless  you  can  face  ex- 
posure," was  the  answer,  gently,  yet  firmly  spoken. 

"You  forget,"  said  Godfrey,  after  another  silence, 
looking  up  with  the  same  exquisite  melancholy  speak- 
ing in  every  feature  and  in  every  tone  of  his  tremulous 
voice.  "There  is  another.  There  is  death.  I  would 
rather  die  than  give  her  up."  And  then  in  a  lower, 
inner  tone  :  "And  rather  see  her  dead  than  married  to 
another. 

Then  he  looked  nervously  and  hurriedly  at  Dallas, 
as  if  surprised  into  voicing  his  thoughts  ;  and  he  threw 
himself  again  into  his  chair,  and  hid  his  face  from  the 
other  man's  searching  gaze. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

FOR  several  minutes  neither  spoke. 

The  cripple  remained  with  his  hands  tightly  pressed 
to  his  face  ;  and  Hugh  Dallas  thought  it  best  that  the 
storm  and  stress  of  feeling  should  have  time  to  abate. 

They  were  sitting  like  this  in  perfect  silence ;  Dallas 
watching  the  other  with  grave,  kindly  scrutiny,  trying 
to  estimate  the  strength  and  meaning  of  the  emotions 
under  which  he  had  spoken,  and  considering  how  best 
to  continue  the  talk,  when  the  door  opened  quickly  ; 
there  was  a  rustle  of  sweeping  silk,  and  Mrs.  Rudyer 
came  hurriedly  into  the  room. 

"Oh,  here  you  are,  Hugh,"  she  cried.  "They  told 
me  you  had  come,  and  I  was  determined  to  find  you. 
They  said  you  were  too  busy  to  see  me,  dear.  But  I 
knew  that  couldn't  be  so,  could  it  ?  Oh,  Mr.  Godfrey, 
I  beg  your  pardon.  I  didn't  know  you  were  here  or 
see  you.  I  thought  Hugh  was  alone." 

This  was  false,  of  course,  and  Dallas  knew  it  was 
false. 

Both  men  had  started  up  at  her  entrance  ;  and  God- 
frey turned  away  so  that  his  face  should  be  out  of  the 
reach  of  her  inquisitive  eyes. 

"'  We  are  very  much  engaged  just  now,  Mrs.  Rudyer," 
he  said,  in  a  tone  so  stern  that  Godfrey  looked  round 
wonderingly.      "  I  must  beg  you  to  leave  us."     And 
he  went  to  the  door,  and  held  it  open  for  her. 
20  329 


330  Ube  Greatest  Gift 

"Am  I  to  be  sent  away  like  a  naughty  child? "  she 
asked  playfully,  and  with  a  laugh.  "You  do  look 
a  cross  thing ;  and  yet  I  only  wanted  to  see  you  as 
soon  as  possible."  She  spoke  with  the  accent  of  a 
cross  child.  "Shall  you  be  long,  Hugh?" 

"This  is  no  time  for  farce-playing,"  he  said,  again 
very  sternly  ;  and  as  soon  as  she  had  gone  he  closed 
the  door  behind  her,  and  walked  back  to  his  chair. 

'•That  is  a  most  unpleasantly  frivolous  woman,''  he 
said,  as  he  sat  down.  "  She  jars  on  me  most  discord- 
antly." 

"I  thought  that  you  and  Mrs.  Rudyer — "  Godfrey 
began,  and  then  hesitated,  and  stopped  in  some  con- 
fusion. 

"  Yes,  I  remember  ;  when  I  was  here  last  time  you 
said  something  about  congratulations,"  answered  Dal- 
las, smiling  to  himself  at  the  incongruity  of  interpo- 
lating an  explanation  of  his  own  bothers  at  such  a 
moment  of  crisis  in  Godfrey's  affairs.  "  But  that,  of 
course,  is  all  nonsense.  Mrs.  Rudyer  has  led  to  this 
complete  misunderstanding  of  everything.  There  is 
no  foundation  for  anything  of  the  kind  you  mean — no 
foundation  whatever.  It  is  utterly  impossible,  and 
Mrs.  Rudyer  has  spread  the  rumor,  I  fear  designedly, 
simply  for  some  purpose  of  her  own."  Then  it  sud- 
denly flashed  upon  him  that  if  he  were  to  speak  con- 
fidentially of  himself,  he  might  draw  the  other  on  pres- 
ently to  speak  fully  from  his  side.  "  It's  an  odd  thing 
to  sandwich  in  my  affairs  between  yours  ;  but  we  are 
friends,  and  have  grown  intimate  in  this.  I  was  en- 
gaged  to  her  once,  you  know — 

"  Yes,  I  know.     She  told  us  all  that ;  and  that  you 


tbe  Greatest  6ift.  331 

will  renew  the  engagement  so  soon  as  a  decent  time 
has  elapsed." 

"Ah,  I  see.  Well,  it's  a  rough  thing  to  say  about 
a  woman,  but  she  is  just  trying  to  bluff  me  into  an 
entanglement,  and  for  that  object  carries  on  before 
your  people  in  the  way  you  have  seen." 

"  You  don't  care  for  her  ?  "  asked  the  other. 

"I  wouldn't  marry  her  if  there  was  no  other  woman 
in  the  world,"  he  exclaimed  vigorously. 

"But  you  can  get  rid  of  her,"  said  Godfrey,  with  a 
heavy  sigh. 

And  this  showed  where  the  incident  had  touched 
him  ;  and  the  tone  in  which  the  cripple  spoke  con- 
centrated Dallas's  thoughts  once  more  on  Godfrey's 
troubles.  He  thought  that  he  had  mentioned  the  in- 
cidents affecting  Mrs.  Rudyer  in  vain ;  but  after  a 
minute's  pause,  Godfrey  asked  : 

"Supposing  you  had  been  compromised  with  Mrs. 
Rudyer  really,  and  wanted  to  be  freed,  what  would 
you  do  ? " 

"My  way  is  a  short  one  :  I  should  face  the  worst 
and  let  what  might  come,  come,"  he  answered  directly. 
"Let  me  tell  you.  In  this  case  I  have  wished  to 
spare  Mrs.  Rudyer — for  the  whole  affair  is  the  re- 
sult of  her  action  without  a  single  word  or  sugges- 
tion of  encouragement  from  me — but  she  has  left 
me  no  chance.  I  must  let  the  truth  tell  its  own 
tale. " 

"  Ah,  that  is  easy,  because  the  truth  helps  and 
doesn't  hurt  you,"  answered  Godfrey,  with  some  dry- 
ness,  and  a  suspicion  of  contemptuousness  in  his 
voice.  "  But  suppose  it  was  the  other  way  about,  and 


332  ube  Greatest  Gift 

the  truth  could  do  no  good,  and  was  almost  sure  tcf 
do  harm  :  what  then  ? " 

"  I  should  face  it  just  the  same,"  said  Dallas. 
"Apart  from  all  other  considerations,  it  is  always 
best  to  tell  the  truth.  It  pays." 

"  How  could  it  pay  in  my  case  ? "  returned  Godfrey 
sharply.  ' '  How  can  it  clear  me  from  this  devil  of  a 
woman,  without  at  the  same  time  ruining  me  with 
Margery  ?  What  chance  should  I  have  if  she  were  to 
know  what  had  passed  between  me  and  that  beast  ? " 
His  passion  began  to  rise  again. 

"  Look  at  the  other  side,  man,"  answered  Dallas 
quietly.  "What  possible  good  can  come  of  trying  to 
hush  this  up  ?  The  woman  is  absolutely  determined 
that  nothing  of  the  kind  shall  happen.  Whatever  you 
do,  she  means  to  force  an  exposure.  It's  as  certain 
as  anything  can  be  that  your  people  will  learn  the 
whole  affair — and  surely  you  can  see  that  the  story 
had  better  come  from  you  than  from  her." 

He  thought  it  necessary  to  drive  this  home. 

"  You  mean  you  would  advise  me  to  send  for  my 
father  and  Margery,  and  tell  them  I  have  been  more 
than  a  fool  and  worse  than  a  scoundrel,  while  they  have 
thought  me  absolutely  innocent  of  anything  of  the 
kind." 

"  I  mean  that  if  you  do  not  say  what  has  happened, 
this  woman  Southerst  will  do  so.  In  fact,  she  has 
begun.  You  know  that  she  has  written  to  me.  She 
has  written  also  to  Miss  Allingham  hinting  at  this. 
She  has  declared  plainly  to  me  that  she  means  to  tell 
all  that  has  happened  ;  and  she  is  quite  capable  of 
walking  up  to  the  front  door,  and  asking  for  the  cap- 


Ube  Greatest  6ift  333 

tain,  and  telling  him  her  own  version  of  all.  You 
know  best  what  the  result  of  that  would  be." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know.  Of  course  I  know.  Am  I  not 
always  thinking  of  it  ?  Am  I  not  always  planning, 
and  plotting,  and  scheming,  a»d  trying  to  see  some 
way  out  through  the  net  that  holds  me  on  every 
side?  "  He  began  to  pace  the  room  ;:gain  somewhat 
wildly,  waving  his  hand  with  much  gesticulation.  "I 
feel  as  a  poor  devil  of  a  hunted  otter  must  feel  when 
he  has  managed  to  slink  away  to  his  hole,  and  knows 
that  one  end  is  stopped  with  earth,  and  that  the 
hounds  are  licking  their  blood-lusting  jaws  at  the 
other,  while  the  men  are  getting  ready  to  smoke  him 
out.  There's  no  escape  ;  not  a  chance  in  a  thousand, 
nay,  not  one  in  a  hundred  thousand.  Haven't  I  rea- 
soned it  out  with  myself,  day  after  day,  hour  after 
hour?  Can't  I  see  as  plainly  as  if  it  had  all  happened, 
the  look  with  which  Margery  would  loathe  and  avoid 
me?  Can't  I  read  the  misery  that  would  come  gloom- 
ing out  of  my  poor,  dear  father's  eyes  ?  Why,  he  is 
so  miserable  now  at  the  mere  thought  that  I  am  un- 
happy, that  he  can't  hide  his  grief  even  from  the  serv- 
ants ?  Don't  I  know  all  this  ?  Haven't  I  felt  it  a 
hundred  times  ?  Here's  the  whole  place  full  of  gloomy 
sadness  and  wretchedness,  and  all  on  my  account. 
It  has  been  so  all  my  life.  I  was  only  born  to  make 
every  one  about  me  miserable,  while  I  myself,  God 
help  me,  have  been  the  most  wretched  of  all." 

He  had  worked  himself  up  to  a  frenzy,  and  at  this 
point  he  threw  himself  again  into  his  chair,  and  sat 
with  one  hand  pressed  to  his  forehead,  muttering  now 
and  again,  "  God  help  me  !  God  help  me  !  " 


334  ftbe  Greatest  (Bift. 

Presently  he  lifted  himself  on  his  elbow,  and,  lean- 
ing forward,  he  looked  across  at  Dallas,  who  had  said 
nothing,  and  spoke  in  a  slow,  melancholy  tone,  with 
none  of  his  former  heat  and  fire. 

"  You  don't  know,  and  you  may  thank  Heaven  that 
you  don't,  what  it  is  to  drag  a  human  soul  through  life 
shut  up  in  a  twisted  carcass  such  as  mine."  Dallas 
made  a  sign  of  pain,  and  seemed  as  if  wishing  to  check 
him.  '  Let  me  speak  for  once  freely  to  somebody. 
For  Heaven's  sake  let  me  !  All  my  life  I  have  been  a 
lie  to  others.  I  have  never  dared  to  tell  the  truth  and 
to  speak  what  I  have  really  felt.  There  has  never 
been  any  one  about  to  whom  I  could  speak.  All  my 
life  I  have  longed  with  passionate  eagerness  to  be  as 
others  are,  to  do  what  others  do,  to  live  as  others  live  ; 
and  I  am  this — I  have  all  the  feelings,  the  mind,  the 
pain,  the  will,  the  passions,  of  a  man ;  and  I  am 
/his" — again  with  a  gesture  of  ineffable  contempt  he 
spoke  of  his  physical  form.  ' '  I  can  eat,  drink,  feel,  hear, 
see,  order,  obey,  hate,  love  ;  and  I  am  this — whatever 
I  do,  wherever  I  go,  whatsoever  I  plan,  it  has  to  be 
with  a  sense  of  this  miserable,  cursed  misshape.  It 
follows  me  as  the  shadow  of  the  cross  dogged  the 
Christ  up  the  hill  of  Calvary.  If  I  go  out,  the  people 
point,  and  stare,  and  jeer,  or  pity.  If  I  stay  in,  they 
think  I  shun  the  very  light  of  day.  All  round  me  at 
all  times,  in  fact  or  thought,  the  eyes  of  the  curious, 
the  pitying,  the  contemptuous,  are  fixed  on  me,  burn- 
ing into  me,  like  the  eyes  of  a  corpse  haunt  the  brain 
of  a  murderer.  Do  you  wonder  that  I  look  on  life  as 
a  hell,  and  crave  for  anything  and  everything  that 
seems  to  promise  relief  ?  Hell,  do  I  say  ?  What  hell 


ttbe  Greatest  Gift.  335 

could  be  worse  than  that  of  him  who,  with  the  brain, 
the  mind,  the  will,  the  desires,  the  passions,  the  soul 
and  life  of  a  man,  finds  them  dungeoned  in  such  a 
cursed  shape  as  thisf  " 

"  You  are  utterly  wrong,  and  utterly  and  absolutely 
without  reason.  Man  is  what  he  does,  not  what  he 
looks  like.  You  are  morbid." 

"  When  you  have  felt  the  eyes  of  a  thousand  people 
fixed  upon  you,  half  in  contemptuous  pity,  and  half 
in  ill-disguised  disgust,  you  will  know  what  I  mean. 
Wait  till  then.  Do  you  think  I  don't  know  what 
people  think  and  say  of  me  ?  Haven't  I  all  my  life 
been  learning  the  grammar  of  such  looks?  Don't  try 
to  foist  on  me  such  paltry  theories  of  life.  I  know  and 
feel  and  see  what  people  do  say  and  do  think.  What 
is  it  to  me  what  they  ought  to  do  or  say  ?  Is  it  any 
evidence  in  the  favor  of  a  murderer  that  Moses  wrote 
_,n  that  tablet,  '  Thou  shalt  not  kill '  ?  I  know  what 
people  are,  not  what  they  ought  to  be.  And  I  hate 
them  for  it !  Think,  then,  if  you  can,  what  it  meant 
to  me  when  the  first  temptation  came  in  the  form  of 
that  woman.  What  was  I  likely  to  feel  when,  with  an 
art  and  a  skill  which  the  devil  might  envy,  she  made 
me  believe  it  was  for  my  own  sake  that  she  cared  for 
me,  that  she  believed  in  my  power  to  do  something  in 
the  world,  that  she  craved  me  of  her  own  free  will  ; 
and  that  I — for  whom  no  one  on  this  earth  had  ever 
had  a  thought  undictated  by  pity — was  necessary  to 
her  to  make  her  happiness  complete  ?  Do  you  wonder 
that  I  yielded  ?  Do  you  wonder  that  I  saw  no  snare, 
that,  like  the  blind,  besotted,  drunken,  glamoured  idiot 
I  was,  I  dreamed  I  had  found  the  means  of  filling  the 


386  Ube  Oreatest  6ift. 

emptiness  and  crowding  out  the  misery  of  my  life? 
,Curse  her  for  the  witch  she  is  !  " 

His  manner  had  grown  in  vehemence  and  his  tone 
in  strength  till  he  spoke  with  intense  bitterness. 

"And  then?"  said  Dallas,  as  he  stopped. 

"And  then?"  repeated  the  other.  "What  cou'd 
the  then  be  but  awakening?  She  was  a  liar,  and  had 
lied  to  me.  I  was  her  dupe,  her  fool,  her  footstool, 
her  jackass— her  everything  that  a  man  ought  not  to  be, 
and-only  a  cripple  could  be.  I  tried  to  kill  her.  God 
knows  I  would  have  done  it  cheerfully.  I  longed  for  her 
death.  I  thought  of  it,  planned  it,  laughed  about  it,  and 
feasted  my  eyes  with  the  thought  of  how,  if  I  could 
only  kill  her,  I  could  glut  my  eyes  with  the  sight  of 
her  dead  body,  and  laugh  at  her  death  as  the  proof  of 
my  strength.  But  I  couldn't.  She  saw  what  I  meant, 
and  she  is  as  cunning  as  she  is  handsome,  and  as  strong 
as  she  is  both.  She  would  wait  and  watch  me,  with- 
out my  knowing,  and  then,  when  I  thought  I  had  her 
in  my  power,  she  would  hold  me,  till  all  the  aggrava- 
tion of  a  thousand  hells  seemed  crowding  and  crush- 
ing into  my  brain,  and  feelings  of  impotence  would 
choke  every  throbbing  blood-course  in  my  body,  and 
drive  me  mad  with  infuriating,  bursting,  red-hot  pas- 
sion. And  then  she  would  laugh.  God,  how  I  hated 
her  for  it  all !  And  I  wished  with  all  my  soul  that  she 
would  die." 

"When  was  this  ?  "  asked  Dallas. 

"It's  two  years  since  we  quarreled  finally,  and  I 
swore  I  would  not  go  near  her  again.  I  have  not  seen 
her  since,  till  the  other  day,  when — but  I  suppose  she 
told  you  what  happened  when  she  taunted  me.  The 


ftbe  Greatest  6tft  337 

horrible  feeling  of  baffled  impotence  came  over  me  at 
the  mere  sight  of  her  and  at  her  tauntings  jeer ;  and 
if  I  could  have  thrown  her  over  the  cliff  I  would  have 
done  it  with  a  feeling  of  blessed  relief.  When  I  am 
with  her,  nay,  when  I  even  think  of  her  and  of  the 
cursed  power  she  wields  over  me,  binding  me  so  that 
I  can  neither  move  nor  yet  remain  still,  I  feel  choked, 
stifled,  and  unable  to  breathe,"  and  as  he  said  this  he 
gasped  and  put  his  hand  to  his  throat  as  if  in  want  of 
air. 

His  earnestness  and  intense  realism  of  suffering  were 
distressing  to  witness.  Hugh  Dallas  waited  some 
time  for  him  to  continue,  and  then  asked  : 

' '  What  will  you  do  ? " 

"There  is  but  one  thing  I  can  do,"  he  replied,  after 
a  pause,  speaking  in  a  tone  of  dull,  despairing,  mourn- 
ful resolution.  "  I  am  trying  to  nerve  myself  for  it, 
but  I  am  a  coward.  I  have  seen  it  coming,  getting 
nearer  and  nearer  ;  watching  the  net  tighten  cord  by 
cord  and  mesh  by  mesh.  I  must  die.  I  had  a  hope, 
just  a  faint,  flickering,  smoking  flax  of  a  hope,  which 
Margery's  love  kindled.  I  thought  fora  while  that  life 
could  yet  be  less  of  a  curse,  and  perhaps  almost  a  bless- 
ing, when  it  seemed  to  hold  her  love.  But  that  is 
gone  out  at  a  puff  of  the  other's  breath.  I  might  have 
known  that  Margery  could  not  love  such  a  thing  as  I 
am.  Dear  Margery ;  sweet,  tender-hearted,  gentle. 
Margery.  She  played  the  part  well  enough  to  deceive 
me  till  this  last  suspicion  lighted  my  eyes.  I  know 
now — too  well,  I  know.  I  am  not  afraid  to  die.  It  isn't 
fear  of  death  makes  me  a  coward.  See,  I  am  always 
ready  " — and  he  took  from  a  pocket  a  small  bottle  and 


338  Ube  Greatest  Gift 

held  it  up  for  Dallas  to  see.  "  There  is  the  death  of 
twenty  men  in  that.  It  is  longing  for  the  happiness 
that  can  never  come  which  makes  me  a  coward.  Death 
is  no  enemy  of  mine.  It  will  be  the  staunchest  friend 
I  have  ever  had,  for  it  alone  can  blot  out  the  memories 
that  embitter  and  the  hopes  that  cheat.  Would  God 
that  I  were  dead." 

"Do  you  forget  the  blow  you  would  strike  your 
father  ? "  said  Dallas,  seeking  to  rouse  him  by  any 
means  from  his  morbid  melancholy. 

"Forget  him?"  answered  Godfrey  reproachfully, 
looking  round.  "  My  poor  father  !  I  have  never  been 
other  than  a  cause  of  sorrow  to  him.  Never.  He 
tried  to  hide  it,  of  course,  brave  heart  that  he  is.  But 
do  you  think  I  don't  know  what  it  must  be  for  a  man 
like  him  to  have  a  cripple  for  an  only  son  ?  Why,  it 
would  break  my  heart  to  have  one  ;  and  his — "  he  left 
the  sentence  unfinished. 

"He  loves  you  as  sons  are  rarely  loved  in  this 
world,"  said  Dallas. 

"Ay,  as  men  love  broken  idols  or  cling  to  schemes 
that  have  miscarried.  ,If  he  but  hated  me,  my  task 
would  be  light  enough.  The  stone  would  drop  into 
the  great  pool  without  a  single  ripple  making  its  mark 
on  the  sands  of  regret.  Poor  father.  Yet  it  is  kinder 
to  cause  him  one  great  pang  than  to  wear  away  the 
remnant  of  his  life  as  I  have  seen  it  going  gradually  in 
this  time  of  suffering.  It  is  part  of  the  curse  that  even 
he  who  does  love  me,  and  those  who  would  love  me 
if  they  could,  only  add  to  the  pain  of  ending  all."  He 
sighed  deeply,  and  was  silent,  bending  his  head  for- 
ward in  an  attitude  of  the  deepest  dejection. 


ttbe  Greatest  (Bift.  339 

For  a  time  it  seemed  as  if  the  cripple's  gloomy  des- 
pair had  infected  Dallas  himself,  for  he  sat  buried  in 
deep  thought.  Then  he  made  his  resolution  sud- 
denly. 

He  jumped  up,  making  an  unnecessary  noise  to 
rouse  the  other,  and  going  to  him  laid  his  hand  on  his 
shoulder  and  said  cheeringly  : 

"Courage,  my  friend,  courage.  I  can  see  away 
through  all  this  tangle.  Take  heart. " 

"  What  is  it  ?  What  will  you  do  ?  "  and  the  cripple's 
eye  shone  for  a  moment  with  the  light  of  renewing 
hope. 

"First,  give  me  that  bottle." 

"No,  I  will  not/'  answered  Godfrey,  shaking  his 
head. 

"Then  I  shall  take  it  from  you.  Come,  give  it, "he 
said  authoritatively. 

Slowly  and  reluctantly  the  cripple  drew  it  from  his 
pocket,  and  handed  it  to  Dallas. 

"  Good.  Now,  we'll  have  no  more  talk  of  nonsense 
of  this  kind,"  and,  opening  the  window,  he  poured  out 
the  contents,  and  then  threw  the  bottle  away. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  asked  Godfrey,  eagerly 
following  every  action  with  greedy  eyes. 

"  I  am  going  to  do  what  no  one  has  ever  done  with 
you  yet,"  answered  Dallas,  very  firmly  and  yet  pleas- 
antly. "  I  am  going  to  take  command  of  you  and 
your  matters,  instead  of  rushing  about  to  try  and  save 
you  from  every  draught  and  chill  of  trouble.  You  are 
going  to  have  what  all  men  in  the  world  have  to  have 
at  some  time  or  another  in  their  lives — a  very  bad  time 
of  it.  I'm  going  to  show  you  how  absolutely  silly  and 


340  ftbe  Greatest  <3ift. 

mawkish  all  this  morbid  rubbis  his  that  you've  been 
suffering  to  grow  unchecked  in  your  mind,  and  every- 
body has  helped  you  to  cultivate.  You've  got  your- 
self into  a  mess — well,  a  good  many  of  us  have  done 
that  before — and  you  have  to  get  out  of  it — as  we  all 
have.  You  won't  marry  Esther  Southerst — don't 
tremble  and  quiver  like  that.  I  know  you  won't. 
Well,  you  can't  marry  Miss  Allingham  without  the 
whole  thing  coming  out  ;  therefore,  mark  this,  the 
whole  thing  must  come  out.  And  I'm  going  to  tell  it." 

"No,  no,  no,"  cried  Godfrey,  his  cry  almost  a 
shriek. 

"  But  I  say  yes,"  said  Dallas  firmly.  "And  I  mean 
it.  Here  you've  sat  for  an  hour  and  more,  just  as 
you've  sat  alone  for  days  and  days,  brooding  and  mop- 
ing, and  seeing  nothing  ahead  but  death — either  your 
own  or  somebody  else's." 

The  cripple  shrank  and  cowered  down  in  his  chair 
at  this. 

"  You  see,  I've  read  your  thoughts  as  well  as  heard 
your  words.  Now,  the  first  thing  I  insist  upon  is  that 
you  think  no  more  about  this  nonsense  of  dying.  You 
must  give  me  your  word  of  honor  as  a  man  that  you 
will  never  raise  a  finger  against  your  life  without  first 
letting  me  know  that  you  wish  to  recall  your  promise, 
and  giving  me  time  to  get  to  see  you." 

The  contrast  between  the  cripple's  despondent  irres- 
olution and  Dallas'  emphatic  vigor  was  so  startling 
that  Godfrey  seemed  to  be  carried  along  by  the  strongei 
man's  determined  will,  and  he  could  only  offer  a  faint 
protest. 

"  I  cannot  do  that.     I  could  not  trust  myself." 


tlbe  Greatest  (Bift.  341 

"Are  you  a  coward  to  run  from  the  shadow  of  your 
own  fears  ?  "  cried  Dallas.  "  I  mast  have  the  promise." 

"I  cannot,"  repeated  the  other  weakly. 

"  Then  you  will  drive  me  to  a  course  which  both 
you  and  I  shall  regret.  I  shall  tell  the  captain  what 
you  have  threatened  to  do." 

"No,  no,"  cried  Godfrey,  shrinking  back,  frightened. 

"  Do  you  shrink  like  that  from  the  mere  mention  of 
the  deed  to  him,  when  you  can  contemplate  striking 
at  him  by  actually  doing  it  ?  " 

"  I  will  promise,"  said  Godfrey,  almost  immediately, 
and  he  stood  up  and  put  out  his  hand.  "  I  will  prom- 
ise for  a  time — a  month.  Would  that  I  had  strength 
like  yours,"  he  said,  glancing  into  the  other's  face, 
almost  like  a  child  or  a  woman. 

"  You  will  have  it  if  you  will  trust  to  me.  But  you 
will  have  to  find  the  secret  of  strength  through  cour- 
age. Dare  to  be  a  man,  and  to  do  and  suffer  like  a 
man.  Now  for  the  first  trial.  Who  is  to  tell  the  cap- 
tain about  Esther  Southerst  ?  Nay,  nay  ;  don't  take 
your  hand  away." 

He  had  held  the  thin,  trembling  fingers  tightly  in 
his  while  speaking,  and  felt  Godfrey  cower  and  shrink 
at  the  question. 

"I  cannot,  I  cannot,"  he  murmured. 

"Then  I  will,"  answered  Dallas;  "and  when  he 
knows  all  as  I  know  it,  you  will  see  how  weak  you 
have  been  in  not  trusting  him  before.  Now,  remem- 
ber, I  am  two  things  to  you  :  first,  doctor,  to  be  obeyed 
to  the  letter — to  the  letter ;  secondly,  elder  brother,  to 
be  trusted,  if  need  be,  with  every  thought  of  your 
heart." 


34*  trbe  Greatest  Oift. 

He  stood  by  him  still  holding  one  hand  in  his,  the 
other  placed  affectionately  on  the  dwarfs  shoulder, 
while  he  looked  down  kindly  into  his  face. 

Gradually  the  cripple's  eyes  fell  before  the  calm,  firm 
gaze,  and  his  head  sank  for  an  instant.  He  raised  it, 
looked  up  at  Dallas  again  and  smiled,  and  murmured  : 

"  I  will  try  to  do  all  you  tell  me."  Then  hastily 
and  nervously  stooping,  he  kissed  the  other's  hand, 
and  hurried  out  of  the  room. 

As  Dallas  glanced  at  his  hand,  he  saw  a  tear  had 
fallen  on  it. 

"Poor  devil,"  he  murmured;  "poor,  impression- 
able, nerveful  devil.  And  now  for  the  captain,"  and 
he  rang  the  bell  to  send  for  him. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

HUGH  DALLAS  told  the  story  to  the  captain  cleverly ; 
laying  chief  insistence  upon  the  woman's  influence, 
and  the  peculiar  strength  it  would  be  likely  to  have 
upon  such  a  nature  as  the  son's  ;  while  he  palliated  by 
inference  and  implication  the  wrong  which  Godfrey 
had  done  her. 

The  captain  listened  to  it  almost  in  silence,  after  the 
first  surprise  had  drawn  from  him  one  or  two  hasty 
expressions.  And  when  all  had  been  told,  he  sat  still, 
thinking  it  over.  The  pain  and  the  shame  of  it  burnt 
like  a  touch  of  hot  iron  on  a  wound. 

"  You  don't  think  as  lightly  of  this  as  you  say,  Mr. 
Dallas,  and  I'm  glad  you  don't,  though  it's  my  own 
son." 

Dallas  looked  up,  for  the  old  man's  tone  was  hard 
and  angry. 

"  I  thank  you  for  trying  to  make  the  story  of  shame 
easy  to  hear  :  but  even  your  friendship  can't  make  it 
easy  to  bear."  He  sighed. 

Dallas  said  nothing. 

"You've  seen  this  woman,  you  say?"  asked  the 
captain,  after  a  pause. 

"Yes,  I've  seen  her — twice." 

"  I  must  see  her.     How  can  I  manage  that  ? " 

"  I  could  arrange  for  her  to  come  to  my  office." 

343 


344  Ube  Greatest  <3ift 

"  That  would  do.  The  sooner  the  better.  I'm  like 
a  ship  in  a  fog"  in  the  channel,  beaten  right  out  of  my 
course,  with  the  breeze  freshening  and  the  sea  rising 
fast,  and  the  compasses  all  gone  wrong.  I'd  have 
trusted  that  boy's  honor — aye,  like  my  own.  At  pres- 
ent I  can  only  see  one  point,  and  I'll  steer  for  it  straight 
as  a  bird.  He  shall  keep  his  word  and  marry  the 
wench."  He  said  this  very  firmly  and  deliberately. 

"Captain  Drury  !  "  exclaimed  Dallas,  in  surprise. 

"Well,"  turning  round  and  looking- his  companion 
straight  in  the  eyes,  his  own  gaze  steady,  clear,  and 
true,  "give  me  your  hand.  Now,  on  your  word  of 
honor  as  a  man,  if  you  could  be  placed  by  any  chance 
in  my  son's  place,  what  would  you  do  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  passed  between  them  ;  but  if  I 
had  pledged  myself  to  marry  her,  I  should  keep  my 
word  at  any  cost." 

"Good,"  said  the  captain,  pressing  his  hand  and 
wringing  it  before  he  let  it  go.  "Good.  And  would 
you  have  my  son  less  honorable  than  yourself,  or  than 
I,  his  father  ?  I  tell  you,  sir,  cried  the  old  man  vehe- 
mently, "I  never  broke  my  word,  consciously,  in  my 
like  ;  but,  thank  God,  I  never  pledged  it  to  do  a  thing 
I  deemed  dishonorable.  He  shall  marry  her." 

After  a  minute's  pause,  he  started  and  passed  his 
hand  across  his  face  and  through  his  hair.  Another 
thought  had  struck  him. 

"Poor  Margery!  Poor  lass!  It  will  be  hard  for 
her.  She  loves  the  lad;  but  she  must  be  told.  Ah," 
he  sighed  deeply,  "  it  isn't  only  the  harm  you  do  to 
yourself,  but  what  you  do  to  others  in  a  thing  like  this  ; 
like  your  dirty  little  foreign  barque  that  gets  afire  in  a 


tTbe  (Greatest  6fft.  345 

harbor  full  of  fine  ships.     Poor  little  Madge,"  he  said 
again  after  a  long  pause,  thoughtfully  and  very  sadly. 

"  It  is  not  for  me  to  argue  with  you  on  the  subject, 
nor  to  attempt  to  turn  you  from  what  you  think  the 
right  decision,"  said  Dallas,  after  the  two  had  sat  a 
long  time  without  speaking;  "but  do  you  think  you 
are  making  enough  allowance  for  the  deep  affection 
which  your  son  ha's  for  Miss  Allingham,  and  the  effect 
upon  him  ? '' 

' '  What  other  course  is  there  consistent  with 
honor? " 

"  I  am  not  suggesting  an  alternative  course  ;  I  am 
only  pointing  to  a  consideration  which  would  be  likely 
to  have  a  serious  effect  upon  such  a  disposition  as 
your  son's." 

The  old  captain  thought  a  moment,  and  looked  in- 
quiringly at  Dallas. 

"Is  there  anything  behind  that  question,  Mr. 
Dallas?  Anything  about  Godfrey's  disposition?" 

Dallas  could  detect  trouble  both  in  the  old  man's 
eyes  and  voice. 

"This  woman  told  me  the  cause  of  your  son's 
calamity,"  answered  Dallas,  very  gently  and  kindly. 

"Ah  !  "  The  exclamation  escaped  like  a  cry  of  pain. 
Then  he  murmured  :  "I  thought  no  one  knew  it." 

The  mention  of  it  seemed  to  rob  him  of  his  strength 
and  self-possession. 

"How  long  have  you  known  this?  "he  asked,  al- 
most piteously  and  appealingly. 

"Only  a  few  hours;  but  it  made  me  anxious  on 
your  son's  account.  Anxious  lest  the  strain  should 
prove  excessive  to  him." 


346  Hbe  6reatest  (Bift. 

"I  understand — I  understand."  And  the  captain 
closed  his  eyes,  and  then  covered  them  with  one  hand, 
leaning  back  on  the  arm  of  the  chair  in  painful,  silent 
thought. 

' '  No  one  knows  of  this,  I  think,  but  the  woman  her- 
self," said  Dallas.  "But  when  I  learnt  it  and  heard 
what  an  effect  all  this  strain  had  upon  your  son,  I 
thought  it  absolutely  necessary  that  some  energetic 
steps  should  be  taken  to  end  the  strain  of  suspense  for 
him.  To  know  the  worst  is  always  less  trying  than 
to  fear  it.  But  in  settling  what  is  to  be  done,  ought 
not  this  to  be  taken  into  account  ?" 

"She  told  you  that  his  mother,  my  poor,  pooi-wife, 
died  insane  ?  "  asked  the  captain. 

"Yes." 

"Did  she  tell  you  what  led  to  the — the  accident  to 
the  boy  ? " 

"  Only  so  far  that  he  was  thrown  from  some  height 
to  the  ground." 

The  captain  made  no  answer  for  a  moment. 

"It  is  my  fault,  all  this — all  my  fault.  I  have  done 
wrong,"  he  spoke  in  a  musing,  sad  tone.  "I  thought 
that  I  could  take  the  tiller  and  steer  the  craft  better 
than  Providence,  I  suppose.  She  was  right  about  my 
poor  wife.  For  some  cause,  I  never  knew  what,  never 
could  make  it  out,  she  got  the  idea  into  her  head  that 
I  had  done  some  sort  of  wrong  with  dear  Margery's 
mother.  Her  poor  mad  brain  must  have  fed  on  some 
scandal  or  other,  though  I  had  not  seen  my  cousin 
Margery  for  full  five  years  before  the  boy's  accident. 
When  I  left  for  the  last  voyage  of  mine,  my  wife  was 
as  loving  and  gentle  as  ever,  and  when  I  got  back  she 


Greatest  (Bift  347 

was  raving  mad,  and  had  tried  to  kill  the  bairn  in  her 
madness.     Ah  me  1"     He  ended  with  a  deep  sigh. 

"That  secret  has  been  with  me  all  through  my  life. 
I  brought  the  child  away,  cut  every  association  with 
the  place  and  the  past,  and  came  here,  to  the  other 
side  of  England.  I  feared — pray  to  God,  Dallas,  you 
may  never  have  to  carry  such  a  fear  about  with  you 
for  any  offspring  of  your  loins,"  he  said  this  with  sud- 
den vehemence.  "What  could  I  do  ?  The  lad  was  a 
hopeless  cripple,  and  in  his  mind,  heaven  help  me,  I 
have  always  feared  to  find  that  mad  taint  showing  it- 
self. I  have  watched  him,  nurtured  him,  almost  kept 
the  wind  from  blowing  too  keenly  on  him,  prayed  over 
him,  and  loved  him — aye,  as  only  a  motherless  cripple 
can  be  loved  by  a  father  whose  heart  is  desolate  with 
ever-gnawing  dread  of  even  a  worse  trouble.  God  is 
good,"  cried  the  the  old  man  reverently,  as  he  laid  his 
forehead  in  his  hand,  "but  in  my  inmost  heart  at 
times,  I  could  not  help  but  cry  out  and  rebel. 

"Then  came  a  brighter  time — again  through  afflic- 
tion. My  poor  cousin's  husband  was  killed  suddenly, 
and  the  shock  was  more  than  she  could  bear  up 
against.  Three  months  saw  them  orphaned  and  al- 
most friendless,  and  they  came  to  brighten  my  life. 
God  sent  them  to  save  me  from  despair.  I  took  the 
gift  and  laid  it  to  rest  in  my  heart  with  such  a  thank- 
fulness as  you  can  scarcely  imagine.  The  flame  of 
life  leaped  up  and  burned  with  a  merry  blaze  for  me 
and  warmed  *me  through  and  through.  And  it  was 
then,  in  the  years  that  followed,  when  all  three,  Madge 
and  Nan,  and  Guy,  had  dropped  their  anchors  right 


348  Ube  Greatest  Gift. 

in  the  deepest  corner  of  my  heart,  that  the  thought 
first  came  into  my  mind." 

He  smiled  very  slightly  at  the  reminiscence,  and 
broke  off  for  a  moment. 

"It  was  a  fanciful  idea,  but  we  sailors  get  into  a 
habit  of  dreaming  at  times.  The  quarter-deck  on  a 
fine  night  when  God  seems  so  close  overhead  makes 
any  man  dream.  And  so  I  dreamt.  I  thought  that 
the  heavy  cloud  which  had  settled  down  on  the  course 
of  our  vessel,  Godfrey's  and  mine,  was  meant  to  be 
lifted.  Poor  Madge's  mother,  thought  I,  was  uncon- 
sciously and  all  innocently  the  cause  of  my  poor 
wife's  craze  and  my  boy's  hard  lot;  and  just  as  it'll 
oftentimes  happen  when  the  gale  is  shifting  all  round 
the  compass,  it'll  slack  off  in  the  very  quarter  where 
it's  beeii  blowing  hardest ;  so,  thought  I,  it's  going  to 
happen  now.  My  little  Madge  is  sent  to  ease  the  life 
which  was  rendered  so  hard  for  my  lad  through  the 
crazy  mistake  made  about  her  mother.  The  more  I 
thought  of  it,  the  more  the  idea  held  me  ;  till  I  seemed 
to  see  in  it  altogether  the  working  out  of  the  ways  of 
God's  justice.  As  if  we  were  meant  to  trace  anything 
of  the  kind." 

He  paused  again,  and  was  silent  for  more  than  a 
minute,  and  sighed  heavily  twice  before  he  resumed. 

"Of  course,  it  didn't  always  seem  to  go  right  for- 
ward ;  but  then,  I  would  think,  can't  a  ship  get  for- 
ward by  tacking  ?  So  I  kept  my  eye  steadily  on  the 
Hope  Lightship,  and  thought  of  the  harbor  ahead; 
you  can't  sail  straight  down  a  shoaly  channel.  And 
when  I  learned  that  they  were  in  love  with  one  an- 
other, I  was  just  as  proud  as  a  helmsman  who  takes  his 


ZTbe  Greatest  (Bfft.  349 

craft  safe  through  a  nasty  bit  of  water  in  dirty  weather. 
Believe  me,  Dallas,  I  never  was  so  happy,  and  never  so 
thankful  to  God  in  my  life.  I  seemed  to  see  then  how 
He'd  been  trying  me,  and  it  looked  like  the  gift  from 
Him  of  that  I  longed  for  above  all  else.  But  now — 

He  stopped,  and  shook  his  head  very  mournfully, 
and  sighed.  Presently  he  asked  : 

"You  think,  do  you,  that  this  breaking  with  Mar- 
gery will  have  a  bad  effect  ? " 

"I  can  hardly  say,"  replied  Dallas.  "I  think,  in  re- 
gard to  him,  as  with  all  men  of  introspective,  ruminat- 
ing natures,  that  ideas  have  much  greater  effects  than 
actual  occurrences.  He  has  brooded  upon  this  until 
I  am  convinced  he  has  persuaded  himself  that  the  rup- 
ture of  the  engagement  would  be  infinite  trouble  and 
torture.  The  apprehension  is  much  greater  than  the 
fact  would  be,  and  I  think  if  that  could  be  recognized 
in  any  line  taken  it  would  be  best." 

"But  the  engagement  must  be  broken,  and  he  must 
keep  his  word  to — to  that  woman.  I  am  resolved  at 
any  cost.  I  will  see  the  woman  on  Monday.  And 
now,  let  us  say  no  more.  I  must  go  and  try  to  think 
out  what  to  do,  and  how  to  do  it.  You  have  behaved 
like  one  man  in  a  thousand  in  all  this,"  said  the  cap- 
tain rising  ;  "  I  can  never  repay  you." 

"Yes,  you  can,  easily,"  returned  Dallas,  "by  not 
taking  too  harsh  a  view  of  your  son's  acts." 

They  left  the  room  together,  and  the  old  man,  look- 
ing very  weary  and  troubled,  turned  away  to  go  to  his 
study,  to  be  alone  and  think,  as  he  said  ;  in  fact,  to 
pray  for  guidance. 

Dallas  walked  on  into  the  drawing-room.     He  found 


350  Ttbe  Greatest  Gift. 

the  room  empty,  and  the  lights  turned  low,  the  win- 
dows being  open,  inviting  one  out  into  the  soft  warm 
air.  He  crossed  the  room,  thinking  the  evening  air 
would  refresh  him  after  his  long  interviews  with  father 
and  son.  The  sound  of  voices  arrested  him. 

"  No,  you  won't." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  shall." 

"You  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind,  Guy." 

"Sha'n't?  you'll  see,  Miss  Dignity." 

"  If  you  do,  you'll  repent  it,"  in  Nan's  voice  distinctly 
menacing. 

A  defiant  and  irritating  chuckle  from  Guy. 

"It's  so  ridiculous,"  very  emphatically,  and  with  a 
suppressed  laugh  of  vexation. 

"Serves  you  right.     Shouldn't  do  it." 

"  Boys  are  so  absurd.  As  if  you  knew  anything 
about  it." 

"Well,  old  Dallas  did  that  morning  when  I  copped 
you  in  the  rosery.  And  jolly  well  you  blushed  when 
I  told  him." 

"Old  Dallas,  indeed.     He'd  like  to  hear  that." 

' '  Well,  he  is  old,  isn't  he?  I  bet  he's  nearly  thirty. 
But  I  like  him.  Don't  you  ?  " 

"Thirty  is  not  old,  except  to  little  boys." 

"  Look  here,  Nan,  I'll  just  give  you  an  arm-twister 
if  you  cheek  me  like  that.  I  wouldn't  care  if  it  was 
old  Dallas  you  flirted  with  instead  of  that  beastly 
Momerie. " 

"Guy  !" 

"  It's  true.  When  that  fellow  moons  round  you  I 
swear  I'd  give  anything  to  pinch  him  or  shove  'a.  pin 
into  him,  or  pull  his  nose." 


Ube  Greatest  (Mft  351 

"You'd  better  not  try  it." 

"  Ho,  ho  !  What  could  that  ass  do  ?  I  bet  I'd  give 
him  one  in  the  eye  before  he'd  done  riddling  with  his 
collar  or  pulling  up  his  bags  to  save  'em  from  creasing 
at  the  knee." 

"  You're  very  brave — now. " 

"  I  would  get  spoons  on  a  man,  not  a  tailor's  dum- 
my. How  does  he  kiss,  eh?"  and  the  boy  guffawed 
loudly. 

"Guy,  how  dare  you  say  such  a  thing?  " 

"Ha,  ha!  Fetched  you  there,  young  woman. 
But,  look  here  straight.  Nan,  if  you  marry  that  little 
barber's  block,  I'll  lead  him  such  a  life.  I  won't  even 
speak  to  you,  or  see  you  either.  I  won't  give  my  con- 
sent either.  So  there  !  " 

"Dear  me,  I  hope  your  majesty  won't  be  too  hard. " 

"Well,  anyway  I'm  head  of  the  family — of  our 
family." 

"Yes,  it's  always  the  smallest  bough  at  the  top  of 
the  tree.  Perhaps  your  royal  highness  will  draw  up 
a  list  of  suitors  for  your  humble  and  docile  sister." 

"Yes;  you  can  marry  Don,  if  you  like.  I  should 
like  that.  And  I  don't  mind  Mr.  Dallas." 

"  What  a  nice  list.  One  of  them  a  boy  in  his  teens, 
still  being  whipped  at  school  if  he  doesn't  do  his 
lessons  ;  and  the  other  engaged  to  be  married  to  a 
guest  in  your  majesty's  house.  You're  scarcely  a 
tactician  yet,  boy." 

Hugh  Dallas  thought  it  was  time  to  move  out  of 
earshot ;  and  wished  he  hadn't  stopped  to  hear  so 
much. 

He  went  out  by  another  door  on  the  opposite  side  of 


352  tTbe  Greatest  <&ift 

the  house,  and  then  walked  round  to  the  terrace  In 
time  to  hear  Guy  finish  some  speech  with  a  laugh,  to 
which  Nan  replied  : 

"  Mr.  Dallas  is  nothing  to  me,  and  you  know  it," 
and  this  speech  fell  by  no  means  pleasantly  on  his  ears. 

' '  There,  now  you've  put  your  foot  in  it  deep 
enough,"  cried  Guy,  laughing.  "  Here  he  is.  I  hope 
you  heard  that,  Mr.  Dallas.  Nan  has  an  awfully  bad 
habit  of  saying  rude  thinp-s  loud  enough  for  others  to 
hear. " 

Then  an  irresistible  impulse  seized  Dallas  ;  and  he 
answered  : 

"Yes,  old  Dallas  heard  it." 

At  this  the  boy  laughed  and  exclaimed.  "Oh, 
crikey,  he's  heard  everything,"  and  then  ran  off. 

Then  Dallas  turned  to  Nan,  who  had  drawn  back 
into  the  shade  oi  the  house. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

"WAS  that  a  formal  renunciation  of  an  old  ally,  Miss 
Nan?"  asked  Hugh  Dallas.  "If  so,  I  am  sorry  I 
overheard  it." 

"It  was  not  meant  for  your  ears,"  answered  Nan, 
who  had  sat  down  again  on  the  garden  seat,  where  she 
had  been  sitting  with  Guy.  "But  you  heard  a  good 
deal  of— of  Guy's  nonsense.  He  is  very  trying  in  his 
teasing  moods." 

She  was  trying  to  recall  what  she  might  have  said, 
and  how  far  given  him  cause  for  offense  ;  she  was 
speculating  also  as  to  how  much  he  could  have  heard. 

"Yes,  his  tongue  has  a  sharp  point — especially 
when  he  gets  near  the  truth." 

"  He  is  so  absurd,"  said  Nan,  vaguely  uncomfortable 
at  this.  "  He's  the  last  person  with  whom  one  holds 
conversations  which  one  wants  overheard." 

"  No  ;  he  seems  to  draw  uncomfortable  admissions," 
said  Dallas,  laughing. 

Nan  felt  herself  blushing,  and  thanked  the  dusk  for 
hiding  it ;  and  then  resolved  to  attack  under  cover  of 
the  darkness. 

"What  did  you  overhear,  Mr.  Dallas?" 

"I  can't  see  your  face,  Miss  Nan,  but  your  voice 
suggests  blushing,"  replied  Dallas.  "  I  unfortunately 
overheard  much  more  than  was  intended  for  my  ears, 
23  353 


354  Ube  Greatest  (Bift, 

I  am  afraid — particularly  your  defense  of  me  against 
the  charge  of  old  age,  and  of  Mr.  Momerie  against  the 
indictment  of  general  unpleasantness." 

"  That  dreadful  boy  !  "  exclaimed  Nan,  now  really 
annoyed  and  conscious  that  she  had  said  a  good  many 
things  not  for  overhearing. 

A  very  awkward  silence  followed. 

"  If  I  was — was  hurried  into  saying — anything  that 
— that  grieved  you — or  pained  you — lam  sorry,"  said 
the  girl,  in  a  very  quiet  voice  and  with  none  of  her 
customary  sprightliness.  "You  have  done  so  much 
for  us." 

"  I  only  heard  a  scrap  of  conversation  in  which  Guy 
was  talking  a  lot  of  nonsense  and  you  were  very  rightly 
rebuking  him — as  an  elder  and  dignified  sister  should. 
He  seems  to  object  to  your — friend,  Mr.  Momerie." 

"  Mr.  Dallas  !  "  exclaimed  Nan. 

"  And  I  should  think  he  could  embody  his  objections 
in  a  very  strong  practical  form." 

"Have  you  any  more  news  about  Godfrey,  Mr. 
Dallas  ?  That  is  a  much  more  important  matter  than 
Guy's  stupidity." 

"More  important  than  Mr.  Momerie?"  he  re- 
turned. 

"Really,  Mr.  Momerie  is  nothing  to  me." 

"Ah,  that  is  what  you  said  about  me  just  now.  Do 
you  want  to  hear  any  news  ?  " 

Dallas  could  have  kicked  himself.  Here  he  had  just 
such  an  opportunity  as  he  might  have  asked  for  to  set 
himself  right  with  the  girl — and  he  was  using  it  to  talk 
a  lot  of  maundering  rubbish  likely  to  do  him  more 
harm  than  good  in  her  eyes. 


Ube  Greatest  Gift.  355 

"I  have  been  waiting  anxiously  ever  since  you 
came." 

"  Are  \ve  allies  ?  "  he  asked.      "As  we  used  to  be  ? " 

"  I  don't  understand — yes — no — well,  I  suppose  so.'* 

Both  were  silent. 

Then  Dallas  spoke. 

"  I  don't  know  that  this  is  the  best  spot  to  speak  of 
these  things.  Accidentally,  I  overheard  more  than  was 
good  for  me,"  this  with  a  laugh.  "Would  you  mind 
walking  a  few  paces  in  the  grounds  ?  " 

He  was  nervous,  and  his  voice  shook  ;  and  the  sym- 
pathy of  nervousness  spread  to  the  girl. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  very  quietly,  and  rose. 

Then  there  was  a  rustling  of  a  dress  behind  them 
in  the  room,  and  a  door  was  closed  noisily,  as  if  for 
effect. 

The  two  moved  away  together,  and  Mrs.  Rudyer 
came  out  directly,  and  walked  after  them. 

"Hugh,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  intended  to  suggest 
that  she  was  both  astonished  and  reproachful.  "  Is 
that  you,  dear,  with  Nan  ?  I  have  been  looking  for 
you." 

Hugh  Dallas  bit  back  an  angry  word  that  rose  to  his 
lips,  and  turned  and  faced  her. 

She  had  chosen  her  time  injudiciously.  He  was 
angered  at  the  interruption,  and  believed  she  had  been 
listening  to  them  for  some  time.  Moreover,  his  facul- 
ties had  been  at  high  tension  during  the  interviews 
with  Godfrey  and  his  father,  and  he  was  thus  more 
easily  moved  than  usual. 

"There  was  no  more  reason  for  you  to  look  for  me, 
Mrs.  Rudyer,  than  for  you  to  use  my  Christian  name." 


356  ube  Greatest  Gift 

"Oh,  you  are  too  ridiculous,  Hugh.  I  shall  really 
be  angry.  It  is  absurd  that  you  won't  call  me  Bee — as 
you  have  fifty  thousand  times — nor  let  me  call  you, 
Hugh,  just  because  of  some  fancied  notions  about 
etiquette.  Isn't  it  ridiculous,  Nan  ? "  and  the  little 
.widow  appealed  to  the  girl  with  an  airy  laugh. 

"I  know  nothing  about  it,"  said  Nan  hastily,  and 
with  confusion.  '  Please  excuse  me,  Mr.  Dallas,  I 
must  run  in  now.  I — want  to  speak  to  Margery." 

"I  should  much  prefer  you  to  stay,"  answered 
Dallas. 

"No,  no,  Hugh.  Let  her  go  in;  run  in,  dear," 
said  Mrs.  Rudyer.  "  Besides,  I  want  to  speak  to  Mr. 
Dallas." 

"Wait,"  said  Dallas,  sternly  enough  now.  "You 
force  me" — addressing  Mrs.  Rudyer — "to  take  an  ex- 
ceedingly distasteful  course.  You  leave  me  no  alter- 
native. For  your  own  purposes,  you  have  spread  a  re- 
port here — I  have  heard  it  to-night  from  Mr.  Godfrey 
Drury,  and  have  denied  it — that  there  is  some  sort  of 
engagement  between  us  by  which  I  am  pledged  to 
marry  you.  No  one  knows  better  than  yourself  that 
that  is  absolutely  without  the  slightest  foundation. 
On  the  strength  of  this  ridiculous  absurdity,  you  have 
attempted  to  compromise  yourself  and  me  in  several 
ways,  and  to-night  you  have  just  intervened  when  I 
have  something  of  a  confidential  nature  to  say  to  Miss 
Nan.  You  will,  therefore,  please  to  excuse  us.  Now, 
Miss  Nan,  I  will  tell  you  that,"  and  he  turned  from  Mrs. 
Rudyer  to  continue  the  walk  with  Nan. 

The  widow  was  a  clever  tactician,  saw  at  once  that 
she  had  made  a  mistake,  and  covered  it  bravely. 


Greatest  Gift  357 

"Ah,  you  have  one  of  your  headaches  coming  on, 
dear,  I  expect.  You  should  have  said  you  wanted  to 
speak  to  Nan.  Of  course  I  don't  mind  her.  But  don't 
catch  cold,  Hugh.  I'll  get  you  your  hat."  And  hum- 
ming a  tune  lightly,  she  turned  back  into  the  house, 
feeling  bitterly  angry  and  humiliated  and  vowing 
vengeance — against  Nan. 

What  stung  her  was  that  Nan  had  been  present  and 
had  stayed  to  listen. 

Nan,  on  her  side,  secretly  rejoiced  at  the  widow's 
fall ;  but  was  deceived  and  puzzled  by  the  effect  which 
had  been  produced  on  her.  At  the  same  time,  she 
was  nervous  and  upset,  and  by  no  means  inclined  to 
continue  the  interview  with  Dallas  ;  and  almost  as 
soon  as  Mrs.  Rudyer  had  gone  into  the  house,  she 
pleaded  a  chill  and  went  in  by  another  way. 

"  Hang  the  woman  !  "  exclaimed  Dallas  angrily,  as 
soon  as  he  was  alone  and  had  lighted  a  cigarette. 
"I'm  glad  I  gave  it  to  her,  although  I  did  feel  a  bit  of  a 
bully  in  making  it  quite  so  strong.  But  how  she  faced 
up  at  the  end.  She  was  biting  her  heart-strings,  I'll  bet  ; 
but  she  managed  to  pop  a  smile  on  to  gull  Nan  with. 
Dear  little  girl,  I'm  glad  she  knows  the  truth."  Then, 
after  half  a  cigarette  had  been  puffed  away,  "Hang 
that  fellow  Momerie  !  Wonder  if  she  was  taking  his 
side  in  earnest  when  Guy  was  chaffing  her?"  Then, 
as  he  lighted  a  fresh  cigarette,  "Wonder  what  effect 
it'll  have  on  Nan  ?  Shall  watch  for  that  carefully." 

But  he  had  little  or  no  chance  to  observe  any  effect. 
The  morning  brought  him  letters  from  Middlingham 
making  his  return  that  day  imperative  ;  and  after  he 
had  had  a  short  conversation  with  the  captain  and  with 


358  Ube  Greatest  Gift. 

Godfrey,  arranging  with  the  former  for  the  interview 
with  Esther  Southerst,  and  cheering  up  the  son  so  far 
as  practicable,  he  went  over  to  Garthorne  to  see  Alan, 
and  from  there  he  went  home  without  returning  to  the 
Manor  House.  Monday  morning  brought  him  a  very 
short  note  from  Mrs.  Rudyer,  which  he  read  eagerly. 

il  MY  DEAR  HUGH, — I  am  sorry  you  tried  to  humiliate 
me  before  Nan,  but  you  might  have  known  me  better 
than  to  think  you  would  succeed.  You  have  driven 
me  to  take  stronger  measures  than  I  had  wished  to 
do  ;  but  it  was  necessary  to  clear  up  any  lingering 
doubts  there  might  be  in  Nan's  mind.  You  should  not 
have  forced  me  to  protect  myself  against  your  unkind- 
ness  and  cruelty  in  this  way.  I  love  you  so  much 
that  it  has  pained  me  to  think  that  you  should  be  com- 
promised in  the  opinion  of  others  even  for  such  a  cause. 
Ever  as  ever.  "BEE." 

'•'Compromised,'  'compromised/  what  the  deuce 
is  the  woman  driving  at?  "  he  mused  angrily.  "  By 
Jove,  I'll  soon  settle  that.  I'll  send  Alan — stay,  should 
I,  just  now?  No.  Confound  the  woman,  she's  got 
me  this  time.  Wait  an  instant — what  an  ass  I  am  ! 
The  very  thing.  I'll  write  to  Godfrey  ;  set  him  to 
work  confidentially.  It'll  do  him  good  to  have  some- 
thing to  do." 

He  wrote  a  hurried  letter  referring  to  what  he  had 
told  Godfrey  during  their  interview,  telling  him  briefly 
of  the  incident,  and  enclosing  the  widow's  letter  for 
him  to  find  out  what  it  meant  and  let  him  know. 

"That's  checkmate,  I  hope,"  he  said.     "And  now 


Greatest  <3fft.  359 

for  this  bothering  matter  of  the  frauds,"  and  he  plunged 
into  his  work  and  kept  at  it  for  four  hours. 

The  appointment  was  fixed  for  three  o'clock,  and 
shortly  before  the  time  Captain  Drury  arrived,  looking 
very  anxious  and  worn,  but  yet  decided. 

"I've  made  up  my  mind  what  I  shall  do,"  he  said, 
after  they  had  shaken  hands.  "I've  thought  over  all 
you  said,  but  it  has  not  shaken  my  resolve.  Unless 
there  is  some  great  reason  against  it,  he  shall  make 
her  his  wife  at  any  cost." 

"  You  shall  see  her  first  before  I  say  anything,"  re- 
plied Dallas. 

"  My  mind  is  made  up,"  answered  the  captain,  and 
then  lapsed  into  silence. 

Punctually  to  the  moment  Esther  Southerst  arrived, 
and  when  Dallas  glanced  at  her,  he  was  astonished  at 
the  difference  in  her  looks. 

She  was  dressed  with  even  more  scrupulous  neatness 
than  before  and  in  her  manner  there  was  not  a  trace 
of  that  reckless,  devil-may-care,  jaunty  air  which  she 
had  shown  on  each  of  the  previous  occasions.  She 
came  in  with  her  veil  down,  her  hands  folded  in  front 
of  her,  her  eyes  downcast,  and  a  demure,  humble,  ill- 
used  expression  on  her  face. 

"She  knew  the  old  man  was  to  be  here,"  thought 
Dallas,  with  a  tendency  to  smile.  "  She'll  deceive  him." 

The  captain  rose  when  she  entered,  bowed  to  her 
with  grave  courtesy,  and  placed  a  chair  for  her. 

She  sat  down,  and  then,  after  a  deep  and  very  audi- 
ble sigh,  turned  to  Dallas  and  asked  in  a  low  voice  : 

"  You  wished  to  see  me  ?  " 

"It  was  at  my  desire  that  Mr.  Dallas  wrote  to  you," 


360  Ube  Greatest  6ift» 

said  old  John  plunging  at  once  into  the  middle  of  the 
subject.      "You  know  who  I  am  ? " 

"You  are  Godfrey's — Mr.  Godfrey's  father,"  was 
the  reply. 

"  I  want  you  to  tell  me  the  whole  story  of  your  re- 
lations with  my  son,"  said  the  captain.  "  Can  you  do 
this  ?  " 

"  It  is  very  painful  to  me  to  speak  of  it,"  said  the 
woman,  in  a  tone  of  great  respect. 

Dallas  recalled  how  she  had  spoken  of  it  before,  and 
again  he  buried  a  smile  in  his  mustache. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  pain  you,"  answered  the  captain, 
"but  it  is  very  important  that  I  should  hear  it." 

"  I  have  been  wrong,  very  wrong,"  she  answered, 
with  a  sigh,  while  she  took  out  her  handkerchief  and 
held  it  in  her  hand,  lightly  touching  first  her  lips  and 
then  her  eyes  as  she  spoke.  "But  I  have  suffered 
deeply.  I  loved  your  son,  sir,  and  trusted  him  en- 
tirely with  my  whole  heart  and  soul."  She  fixed  her 
large  lustrous  eyes  on  the  captain's  face  as  she  said 
this,  while  her  voice  faltered.  "  He  deceived  me, 
Captain  Drury,  and  when  I  had  given  him  all  the 
proofs  of  my  love  that  a  woman  can  give,  and,  God 
help  me,  more  than  any  honest  woman  can  give,  he 
left  me,  with  almost  a  curse  on  his  lips.  We  were  to 
have  been  married,  but  he  said  he  dared  not  marry  me 
because  of  your  anger  ;  but  I  knew  of  you,  and  I  knew 
you  would  not  have  thought  it  shame  that  he  should 
keep  the  pledge  he  had  given  me.  I  told  him  this, 
urged  it  upon  him  with  all  the  power  of  a  wronged 
woman.  But  he  left  me." 

"Poor  lass!"  said  the  captain  when  she  stopped. 


ZIbe  0reatest  (Bift  361 

This  was  spoken  and  acted  with  consummate  skill, 
and  made  an  evident  impression  on  him.  So  much  so 
that  Dallas  interposed. 

"You  were  not  affected  in  this  way  when  you  were 
here  before.  Your  manner  was  very  different" 

"Ah,''  she  cried  quickly,  and  cleverly  turning  the 
interruption  to  her  own  use,  "there  are  times  when 
my  heart  is  all  bitterness,  recklessness,  fire,  and  anger  ; 
when  the  sense  of  sorrow  is  lost  in  the  memory  of  in- 
justice ;  when  I  am  more  of  an  outraged  woman  than 
a  miserable,  forsaken  Wife.  It  was  in  one  such  mo- 
ment that  in  a  fit  of  desperation  I  tracked  your  son  to 
his  home,"  she  cried,  with  a  touch  of  wildness  in  her 
manner,  "  and  sought  to  bring  home  to  him  the  sense 
of  what  he  had  done  by  flinging  myself  into  the  sea  al- 
most at  the  gates  of  his  rich  house.  But  they  would 
not  let  me  die,"  and  she  let  her  hands  fall  on  her  lap 
with  a  gesture  of  despair,  while  a  look  of  infinite 
melancholy  rested  on  her  face. 

And  in  this  way,  with  consummate  art,  sometimes  im- 
plying much  in  a  few  words,  now  hinting  at  things  too 
dark  to  be  mentioned,  then  dwelling  upon  isolated  inci- 
dents, and  facts  which  made  in  her  favor,  she  told  what 
seemed  to  be  a  story  of  almost  heartless  cruelty  and  de- 
sertion as  the  reward  of  implicit  faith  andaboundinglove. 

More  than  once  when  Dallas  interposed  some  ques- 
tion, intended  to  bring  out  the  complete  contrast  be- 
tween her  manner  then  and  on  previous  occasions,  she 
was  quick  to  convert  the  questions  to  her  advantage  by 
some  ready  and  plausible  explanation. 

"  Why  have  you  done  nothing  for  so  long  a  time  ?  " 
he  asked. 


362  tCbe  ©reatest  Gift. 

"  I  have  waited,  hoping  that  his  heart  would  soften," 
she  replied  readily.  "And  I  should  have  waited 
longer,  but  I  heard  of  his  intended  marriage.  Then 
my  woman's  pride  forced  me  to  interfere." 

It  was  a  good  answer,  well  calculated  to  touch  the 
man  for  whom  it  was  designed. 

"Was  it  your  woman's  pride  which  induced  you  to 
write  anonymous  letters  ?  "  asked  Dallas. 

"  I  sought  to  rouse  him  first  indirectly  in  all  that  I 
wrote,"  and  as  she  said  this  she  directed  a  quick,  fur- 
tive look  at  her  questioner  which  dared  him,  as  plainly 
as  any  words  could  have  done,  to  go  further  in  that 
direction. 

"  How  did  you  get  your  information  ?  "  asked  Dallas 
declining  to  take  up  the  challenge. 

"How  could  any  woman  fail  to  learn  the  facts, 
about  the  man  she  loved  ?  "  was  the  reply,  humbly 
spoken. 

"  It  is  enough,  Mr.  Dallas.  I  will  see  you  righted," 
he  said,  turning  to  Esther  Southerst  and  holding  out 
his  hand. 

Then  she  surpassed  herself. 

She  rose  from  her  chair,  took  his  hand  in  both  hers, 
gasped  hysterically  once  or  twice  as  if  in  want  of  air, 
and  then,  pressing  her  lips  to  it,  she  sunk  on  her  knees 
before  him,  and  bursting  into  a  storm  of  tears  she 
clung  to  him  with  nervous,  trembling  fingers  and  cried  : 

"  Oh,  thank  God— thank  God  !  " 

The  captain  was  too  much  affected  to  do  more  than 
pat  her  shoulder  and  smooth  her  hand,  and  beg  her 
not  to  kneel  to  him,  while  his  own  honest  eyes  filled 
with  tears  of  real  distress. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

ON  the  evening  of  the  day  of  the  interview  with 
Esther  Southerst,  Godfrey  Drury  sat  alone  in  the  small 
inner  library  of  the  Manor  House.  It  was  a  snug,  cosy 
room,  but  in  the  deepening  shades  of  the  evening  it 
seemed  dull  and  gloomy.  Not  a  breath  of  wind  stirred. 
Outside  was  heavy  and  hot,  and  a  mist  had  come  up 
from  the  sea,  which  clung  round  the  trees  and  bushes 
and  hung  about  the  house.  There  was  an  unwonted 
resonance  in  the  air,  too,  suggestive  of  a  brooding 
storm.  The  stillness  was  intense,  and  the  cripple  felt 
oppressed  by  it,  although  he  himself  had  frightened 
away  those  who  had  gone  to  him  by  his  moody  tem- 
per. He  was  waiting.  Very  little  had  passed  between 
him  and  the  captain  on  the  subject  of  Esther  Southerst, 
but  it  had  been  enough  to  rouse  in  him  both  passion 
and  fear. 

"  You  know,  of  course,  what  Mr.  Dallas  had  to  tell 
me,"  the  captain  had  said  on  the  Svmday.  "I  am 
going  to-morrow  to  Middlingham  to  see — her."  He 
paused  before  the  pronoun,  scarce  knowing  how  to 
speak  of  Esther  Southerst.  "I  will  speak  to  you  when 
I  return." 

"What  do  you  want  to  see  her  for?  "  Godfrey  had 
asked  sharply. 

"To  hear  her  story  and  make  my  decision." 

363 


364  Ube  Greatest  Gift. 

"She  will  lie  to  you  ;  but  there,  I  don't  care,  she  is 
nothing  to  me."  And  then  he  had  turned  away,  as  if 
indifferent. 

But  he  knew  his  father  well,  and  knew  that  the  story 
he  would  hear  would  make  a  deep  impression.  Dur- 
ing the  whole  of  the  Sunday  he  had  brooded  over  it, 
and  all  night  it  had  kept  him  restless,  sleepless,  and 
agitated,  and  all  the  following  day  he  had  been  nerv- 
ously excited.  A  sense  of  impending  calamity  was 
so  strong  upon  him  that  he  was  like  one  dazed  or 
crazed.  He  could  neither  eat  nor  drink,  rest  nor  move 
about,  bear  to  have  any  one  with  him  nor  endure  soli- 
tude. The  only  person  who  could  have  calmed  him 
at  all  was  Margery.  When  she  was  away  from  him 
he  longed  for  her  to  be  near ;  yet  when  she  came  he 
drove  her  away  with  harsh  words,  maddened  at  the 
thought  that  he  had  lost  her  forever  as  the  con- 
sequence of  his  acts. 

All  day  he  had  stayed  in  the  small  room,  except 
when  once  or  twice  he  had  rushed  out  into  the  air  with 
a  sensation  as  of  a  man  choking.  But  he  had  gone 
back  to  the  room  again,  filled  with  angry  distemper  at 
the  mocking  sense  of  happiness  in  which  the  sunshine 
had  seemed  to  laugh  at  him.  He  hated  everything 
that  seemed  to  suggest  happiness  ;  and  when  once  or 
twice  the  sound  of  Guy's  or  Nan's  laughter  had  been 
borne  in  to  him,  it  had  moved  him  almost  to  a  frenzy 
of  passion.  When  the  dusk  began  to  gather,  and  the 
mist  came  up,  thick  and  dark  and  clinging,  he  was 
glad,  for  it  drove  the  others  into  the  house.  Then 
Margery  came  to  him  for  the  third  or  fourth  time  since 
luncheon. 


tTbe  Greatest  <&tft.  S65 

"Are  you  feeling  better,  Godfrey?  "  she  asked. 

"No." 

"I  am  sorry.  I  wish  you  would  let  me  get  you 
something.  You  have  had  nothing  to  eat  all  day. 
What  is  the  matter,  dear  ?  " 

"Never  mind." 

"  We  are  going  to  have  a  cup  of  tea.  Won't  you 
come  ?  " 

"No." 

' '  Godfrey,  something  is  making  you  unhappy. 
Tell  me."  She  sat  down  by  his  side,  and  took  his 
hand.  "  How  cold  you  are.  You  are  not  well." 

He  snatched  his  hand  away,  almost  roughly. 

' '  Go  away. " 

"  I  want  to  be  with  you,  dear.  I  can't  bear  to  be 
away  and  to  think  of  you  sitting  in  this  dreary  room 
alone  and  ill." 

"I'm  not  ill.     Go  away." 

She  sighed. 

"Ah,  Godfrey,  don't  send  me  away,"  she  said  en- 
treatingly.  "  Let  us  get  a  light  and  cheer  the  room 
up  a  bit,  and  have  a  snug  cup  of  tea,  and  then  read  a 
bit  together  and  have  one  of  our  old-fashioned  chats." 
And  she  smiled  very  pleasantly  and  rose  and  rang  the 
bell. 

"Can't  I  be  alone  when  I  will?"  he  cried  angril}''  ; 
and  then  his  tone  changed  suddenly.  "You'll  be  glad 
enough  to  leave  me  soon."  And  he  turned  from  her 
to  the  window  and  gazed  out  at  the  mist,  sullenly  and 
very  sorrowfully.  His  own  words  had  saddened  him. 

Just  then  the  servant  came  in  answer  to  the  bell. 

"Some  tea,  Rose,  and  bring  some  matches,"  said 


366  tTbe  6reatest 

Margery.  And  as  soon  as  the  maid  had  gone  she 
went  to  him  and  placed  her  arm  round  him. 

"  What  is  behind  that,  Godfrey?  There  has  some- 
thing happened — I  know  there  has.  I  saw  it  yester- 
day and  to-day,  both  with  uncle  and  you.  If  it  is  bad 
news  why  am  I  to  be  shut  out  from  helping  to  bear  it  ? 
Tell  me,"  She  spoke  gently  and  affectionately. 

"Bad  news.     Good  news  you'll  call  it,  I  expect." 

The  words  came  almost  against  his  will.  He  did 
not  mean  them  ;  but  they  were  an  echo  of  the  moody 
anger  that  possessed  him.  He  was  angry  with  him- 
self for  having  spoken  them,  and  with  Margery  for 
having  drawn  them  from  him. 

"  When  has  bad  news  to  you  and  uncle  been  good 
news  to  me  ? "  she  said,  with  a  gentle  reproach  ;  but 
he  had  wounded  her.  "You  are  cruel,  Godfrey — 
cruel. " 

"Why  do  you  come  bothering  me,  then  ?  Wait  till 
you  hear  what  has  to  be  heard,"  he  cried,  his  moodi- 
ness  changing  to  violent  anger.  "  Heaven  knows,  ill 
news  flies  quickly  enough  without — " 

The  servant  knocked  at  the  door  at  that  moment,  and 
interrupted  Godfrey  in  the  middle  of  the  speech. 

"  Don't  light  that  gas,"  he  cried  wrathfully  ;  "  and 
take  those  slops  away,"  pointing  to  the  tea. 

The  servant  hesitated,  not  knowing  what  to  do  ;  and 
compromised  matters  by  putting  down  on  the  table 
the  matches  with  which  she  had  been  about  to  light 
the  gas,  and  going  hurriedly  out  of  the  room,  leaving 
the  tea-tray. 

"Can't  I  be  obeyed  by  a  single  servant? "  he  cried, 
eager  to  find  some  one  or  something  on  whom  to  vent 


Greatest  Gift  367 

his  anger.  "  Have  they  all  been  set  against  me 
already  ?  By  G — ,  I  won't  stand  that.  Here,  you, 
come  back,"  he  called  to  the  maid,  opening  the  door 
of  the  larger  library,  through  which  she  had  passed. 

But  she  either  did  not  or  would  not  hear,  and  what 
in  his  excited  anger  he  deemed  an  act  of  flagrant  dis- 
obedience, wrought  up  his  passion  to  such  a  pitch  that 
he  seized  the  tray,  and  hurled  it,  with  all  that  was  on 
it,  with  all  his  force  in  the  direction  in  which  the 
servant  had  gone. 

"Now,"  he  cried,  turning  to  Margery,  who  was  pale 
and  frightened,  "will  you  go  and  leave  me  alone  or 
stay  till  I  go  mad?  A  parcel  of  disobedient  devils." 

The  girl  fled  in  terror,  and  the  cripple  slammed  the 
door  after  her,  and  locked  it,  and  began  pacing  the 
little  room  from  side  to  side  with  quick,  nervous, 
angry  tread. 

His  passion  passed  as  suddenly  as  it  had  come. 

Pausing  in  his  walk  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  he 
pressed  his  clenched  hands  to  his  forehead,  and  looked 
about  him,  as  he  might  have  done  had  he  been  awak- 
ened from  a  sound  sleep  ;  and  then,  with  a  gesture  of 
passionate  despair,  he  threw  himself  at  full  length  on  a 
couch,  and  cried,  in  a  voice  of  grief : 

"  My  God,  my  God  !  what  have  I  done  ? " 

He  lay  still  like  one  in  a  stupor  for  a  long  time,  till 
the  dusk  had  deepened  into  dark  ;  and  then  getting 
up,  he  groped  his  way  to  the  door,  opened  it,  and 
went  out  full  of  miserable  remorse  to  seek  Margery 
and  make  his  peace  with  her. 

When  he  reached  the  hall,  he  found  the  captain  had 
arrived,  and  the  latter  started  in  surprise  and  pain  at 


368  Ube  Greatest  6ift 

Godfrey's  white,  scared  face,  disheveled  appearance  and 
worn,  anxious,  miserable  look,  and  spoke  kindly  to  him. 

The  two  girls  were  fussing  over  the  captain,  and 
making  much  of  him,  as  women  like  to  with  those thef 
love,  Margery  helping  him  to  get  off  his  greatcoal, 
while  Nan  took  his  stick  and  hat  and  gloves ;  then 
each  thrust  an  arm  through  his,  and  were  marching 
him  off  to  the  room  where  they  had  taken  care  to  have 
some  tea  and  cakes  ready  for  him,  when  Margery 
slipped  to  Godfrey. 

"You'll  come  now,  Godfrey,  won't  you?"  she 
asked. 

"Come  here,  Margery,"  and  he  drew  her  into  the 
shade  of  the  library.  "Can  you  forgive  me?"  he 
whispered.  "I  am  miserable;  and  I — oh,  Margery, 
if  you  could  only  know  what  this  will  mean  to  me. 
Can  you  forgive  me  ?  " 

Not  having  the  clue  to  his  thoughts,  she  was 
puzzled,  and  did  not  understand  his  seeming  inconse- 
quence. 

"  I  was  much  to  blame  myself,  dear,"  said  Margery 
gently,  laying  her  cool  fingers  on  his  brow  to  smooth  it 
as  if  he  were  a  child.  "  I  angered  you  ;  but  I  wanted 
to  rouse  you  from  your  melancholy. 

"Ah,  Margery,"  he  whispered,  with  a  sigh,  "you 
are  an  angel.'' 

"Clogged  with  very  earthly  thoughts,  I  am  afraid," 
she  answered  lightly.  "That  was  a  very  womanish 
meddlesomeness,  for  instance,  which  wouldn't  let  me 
leave  you  alone  this  afternoon,  made  you  excited,  and 
caused  all  this  upset." 

He  had  taken  her  hand  and  held  it  a  minute  without 


Ube  Greatest  Gift  369 

speaking,  and  he  pressed  it  in  his  own  fingers,  which 
were  trembling. 

"  Will  you  kiss  me,  dear,"  he  said,  "and  let  me  kiss 
you?" 

She  bent  her  head  down,  and  he  threw  his  arms 
round  her  neck,  almost  convulsively,  and  kissed  her 
passionately,  and  laid  his  cheek  against  hers.  She  felt 
it  was  cold  and  wet  with  tears. 

"Margery, "he  said,  in  a  whisper,  "shall  you  be 
glad  to  have  our  engagement  broken  ?  " 

He  held  her  so  tightly  that  he  almost  hurt  her,  and 
she  felt  the  muscles  of  his  arms  stiffen  and  grow  rigid 
as  if  in  a  great  effort  at  self-control.  She  was  con- 
scious of  this,  despite  the  astonishment  which  his  ques- 
tion caused. 

"You  are  full  of  strange  fancies  to-night,  dear. 
Why  should  the  engagement  be  broken  ?  You  have 
been  brooding  till  you  have  made  yourself  miserable. 
Let  us  go  to  uncle." 

"No,  no,  not  for  a  minute!  Sit  here  a  minute. 
Do,  do,  for  heaven's  sake  !  " 

He  pleaded  with  such  fervor  and  eagerness — so  ex- 
aggerated and  so  unnecessary  as  it  seemed  to  her — 
that  Margery  yielded.  And  when  she  sat  down  on  a 
low  chair,  he  knelt  beside  her  and  put  his  arms  again 
round  her  neck. 

"  Tell  me,  Margery,  do  tell  me.  Shall  you  be 
glad?" 

"  Do  you  wish  to  break  it,  Godfrey?"  asked  Mar- 
gery, not  knowing  at  all  what  he  meant. 

"Great  heavens,   no!  "  burst  from  him,   with  such 
violent  feeling  that  no  one  could  mistake  its  sincerity, 
24 


370  ttbe  Greatest  Gift 

while,  as  he  spoke,  he  took  one  arm  from  her  neck 
and  then  laid  his  head  on  her  bosom,  with  his  forehead 
nestling  close  to  her  cheek. 

"  Then  why  ask  what  could  only  distress  me  even 
to  think  of?  "  was  the  girl's  answer. 

"  Because  I  am  longing  to  hear  you  utter  words  of 
love.  You  will  know  soon  why  I  asked,"  and  he 
shuddered.  "But  to-night,  here  now — I  am  faint  for 
words  of  love.  Do  you  love  me,  Margery  ?  " 

"Are  we  not  soon  to  be  man  and  wife?  I  have 
always  loved  you,"  she  said,  and  smoothed  his  fore- 
head, and  then  bent  her  face  forward  and  kissed  the 
brow. 

"  Madge,  would  you  kiss  me  if  I  were  dying  ?  " 

"  I  shall  scold  you,  sir,  if  you  keep  on  brooding." 

"Don't,"  he  cried,  as  if  the  tone  and  the  words 
jarred.  "Would  you?  Suppose" — a  long  pause — 
"suppose  I  had — no,  we —  Suppose  something  should 
ever  happen  to  come  between  us,  and  I  were  dying — 
would  you  kiss  me  like  that? " 

"  What  is  in  your  mind  to-night  to  make  your 
thoughts  so  sad,  dear?  We  should  be  talking  of  mar- 
riage bells — I  what  I  must  be  married  in  ;  you  where 
we  are  to  go  for  our  honeymoon.  I  will  not  let  you 
run  on  gloomy  subjects  in  this  way,"  she  said,  in  this 
way  striving  to  rouse  him. 

"Ah,  you  are  happy,  Margery.  It  is  easy  not  to 
think  of  death  when  your  heart  is  light.  But  to-night 
I  have  a  fancy — put  it  no  higher  than  a  fancy,  if  you 
will,  I  feel  that  if  I  held  your  hand  in  mine,  and  if 
your  lips  were  on  my  brow,  I  could  open  that  gate  of 
gloom  myself,  and  close  it  behind  me  with  a  resolute 


tCbe  Greatest  (Sift  an 

hand,  shutting  out  forever  the  light  of  life.  If  there 
is  anything  beyond,  I  know  my  spirit  would  carry 
that  last  memory  of  you  into  the  wilderness  of  eter- 
nity. If  there  is  nothing  beyond,  I  should  have  been 
cheered  to  the  last  by  a  sense  of  all  you  seem  to  be  to 
me." 

"Open  the  gate  yourself,  Godfrey.  What  do  you 
mean  ?  "  asked  Margery. 

"That  if  I  could  have  died  just  now  when  you  laid 
your  cool  lips  on  my  hot  brow,  I  should  have  wel- 
comed death." 

"I  will  not  stop  for  you  to  harbor  sad  thoughts  like 
this,"  said  Margery.  "  Let  us  go  to  the  others." 

"Stay,"  he  said  entreatingly  ;  "I  am  happy.  I 
will  speak  no  more  of  death. "  She  stayed.  "Have 
you  ever  thought  how  seldom,  during  the  whole  time 
we  have  been  engaged,  you  have  spoken  of  love?  I 
have  told  you  of  mine  many  times,  but  you  have  al- 
ways seemed  to  try  and  make  me  feel  you  loved  me, 
without  using  words.  I  think  that  is  right.  Yet  some- 
times, do  you  know,  I  have  seemed  to  hunger  for  the 
mere  words — as  I  do  to-night.  I  should  like  to  tell  you 
something  to-night,  and  to  ask  you  a  question  that  I 
have  never  ventured  to  ask  before." 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  asked  Margery,  when  he  paused. 

"Did  ever  care  for  Alan  Ramsay?  Ah,  that  has 
made  you  start  in  surprise  ;  and  your  heart  is  beating 
faster.  I  can  feel  it  throbbing." 

"Why  do  you  ask  a  question  like  that,  Godfrey?  " 
and  her  voice  was  unsteady  as  she  spoke. 

"Because  they  tried  to  make  me  think  you  did. 
They  told  me — what  do  you  think  ?  "  he  laughed, — 


372  Ube  Greatest  Gift. 

"that  you  loved  Alan  Ramsay,  and  were  marrying 
me  for  money.  As  if  that  were  a  story  any  one  who 
knew  you  would  believe  for  a  moment.  You,  to 
marry  for  money. "  He  laughed  again  at  the  absurdity. 
"Did  you  ever  care  for  Alan  Ramsay?  " 

' '  Who  are  '  they '  who  try  to  make  mischief  ?  "  asked 
Margery. 

"Liars,  Madge;  base,  venomous,  reckless  liars,"  he 
burst  out,  with  sudden  anger,  as  he  thought  of  Esther 
Southerst. 

"Then  let  us  put  their  slanders  away  from  you. 
You  are  right,  Godfrey.  If  I  did  not  love  a  man  well 
enough  to  marry  him,  no  wealth,  nor  land,  nor  honors 
could  tempt  me  to  marry  him." 

"I  knew  that.  I  was  sure  of  it,"  and  he  kissed  her. 
Then  after  a  long  silence,  during  which  he  nestled  his 
head  on  her  bosom,  he  said,  "If  anything  should  ever 
come  between  us,  Margery — if  it  should,  I  say — could 
you  ever  care  enough  for  Alan  Ramsay  to — to  marry 
him?" 

"Nothing  ever  will  come  between  us,  Godfrey." 

"  But  suppose  it  should,  what  then  ?'' 

"But  suppose  I  hadn't  a  foolish  Godfrey  who  was 
trying  how  uncomfortable  he  could  make  himself,  and 
Was  manufacturing  riddles  about  all  sorts  of  absurdities, 
and  suppose — " 

"  Don't,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  entreaty.  "  I  want  to 
know.  If  I  were  dead,  Margery,  would  you  marry 
Alan  Ramsay  ? '' 

"  You  promised  to  speak  no  more  about  death,"  said 
the  girl. 

"You  are  trying  to  evade  the  question,"  he  cried 


ttbe  Greatest  <Bift  373 

quickly  and  suspiciously,  lifting  his  head  from  her 
bosom.  "I  could  feel  your  heart  leap  with  a  quick 
rush  of  alarm.  Tell  me,  Margery." 

At  that  moment  a  door  opened,  and  Nan  came 
singing  across  the  broad  hall,  and  peered  into  the 
library. 

"  Marge  !     Godfrey  !  "  she  called,  in  a  loud  whisper. 

"  What  is  it,  Nan  ?  "  asked  Margery,  while  Godfrey 
rose  to  his  feet. 

"Uncle  wants  Godfrey.  I  told  him  I  thought  he 
was  in  the  sanctum " — this  was  the  inner  library — 
"and  he's  coming  directly.  I  slipped  out  to  let  you 
know.  I  guessed." 

"  It's  all  right,  dear,"  said  Margery.  "  Godfrey  and 
I  have  been — have  been  chatting." 

"So  I  thought,"  said  Nan,  with  a  significant  sniff; 
"but  uncle  didn't  seem  to  like  it ;  and  I'm  sure  he 
won't  care  about  sitting  in  the  dark." 

With  that  the  two  girls  went  in  together  and  lit  the 
gas  in  the  sanctum,  and  then  Nan  whispered  : 

"Something  serious  has  happened,  Madge.  I  think 
it's  about  Godfrey." 

There  was  no  time  for  more,  as  they  heard  the 
captain's  slippered  feet  crossing  the  hall. 

"  Is  Godfrey  there?"  he  asked,  seeing  the  girls  in 
the  inner  room. 

"  Yes,  here  I  am,"  answered  the  cripple. 

' '  Dear  little  heart,"  said  the  old  man,  taking  Margery 
in  his  arms  as  they  met,  and  kissing  her.  His  face 
was  very  grave  and  sad,  and  his  manner  very  loving 
and  tender  to  her.  Then  he  held  her  a  moment  at 
arm's  length,  putting  his  hands  on  her  shoulders,  and 


374  ttbe  Greatest  Gift 

kissed  her  once  more  as  he  repeated  his  word  caress— 
"Dear  little  heart." 

After  that  he  went  into  the  room  where  Godfrey  was, 
and  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

The  cripple  had  gone  quite  to  a  corner  of  the  room 
by  the  side  of  the  fireplace,  and  sat  in  a  large,  roomy, 
lounge  chair,  with  his  face  half  turned  from  the  door. 
He  looked  round  once  when  the  captain  came  in,  but 
it  was  a  quick,  stealthy  glance,  and  almost  im- 
mediately he  turned  his  head  away  again,  avoiding 
the  captain's  eyes,  and  kept  his  own  fixed  on  the  plants 
which  stood  in  and  about  the  grate. 

The  old  captain  paused  a  few  seconds  looking  at 
Godfrey,  and  a  slight  expression  of  dissatisfaction 
crossed  his  face  at  the  way  in  which  Godfrey  received 
him.  Then  he  went  and  stood  by  his  chair,  resting 
one  hand  on  the  back  of  it. 

"  You  know  where  I  have  been,  and  whom  I  have 
been  to  see.  I  have  seen  Esther  Southerst,  and  have 
heard  the  whole  of  her  story." 

"She  is  a  liar,  remember  that,"  said  Godfrey,  not 
looking  at  him. 

"  She  says  you  ruined  her,  and  left  her." 

"She  lies.     She  ruined  me,  and  drove  me  from  her." 

' '  Did  you  promise  her  marriage  ? "  asked  the  captain, 
not  without  sternness  in  his  voice. 

Godfrey  made  no  answer. 

"  Did  you  promise  her  marriage  ;  yes  or  no  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"Are  you  and  I — father  and  son — men  of  honor?  " 

"You" are.     I  am  as  crippled  in  honor  as  in  body." 

"Silence,    Godfrey.     Don't  palter  with   your    con- 


Ube  Greatest  Gift,  375 

science.  Have  you  any  doubt  as  to  what  my  de- 
cision is?  " 

He  waited  for  an  answer,  but  none  came. 

"  No,  you  can  have  none.  You  have  passed  your 
word  ;  on  the  faith  of  it  this  woman  trusted  you  ;  and 
if  you  are  my  son,  you  will  keep  it." 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  think  I  can  make  that 
woman  my  wife  ? "  cried  Godfrey,  looking  up  almost 
wildly  into  his  father's  face. 

"I  do,"  answered  the  captain. 

"Never,  never,"  exclaimed  the  cripple  vehemently. 
"  I  could  not  do  it.  I  would  rather  die — infinitely 
rather,"  and  he  turned  in  his  chair  and  shuddered. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THERE  came  a  long  silence,  during  which  the  cap- 
tain paced  the  room  as  if  it  had  been  the  quarter- 
deck. After  a  time  he  stopped,  and  went  close  to 
the  chair  in  which  Godfrey  sat ;  and  leaning  against 
the  library  table,  and  putting  his  hands  in  the  pockets 
of  his  jacket,  he  began  to  speak  deliberately. 

"We  must  talk  this  thing  out  together,  lad,"  he 
said,  "like  men  of  honor.  You  must  see  it  as  I  see 
it,  and  I'll  try  to  understand  how  you  look  at  it.  We 
shall  get  soundings  then." 

"You  don't  know  what  you  are  asking,"  murmured 
Godfrey. 

"  Listen  here,  lad.  You  gave  your  word  to  this 
girl  that  you'd  marry  her,  and  you  took  advantage  of 
the  confidence  with  which  that  pledge  of  yours  filled 
her —  Bide  a  bit,"  as  Godfrey  was  going  to  speak. 
"Now,  when  a  man  pledges  his  word,  I  hold  he's 
bound  to  keep  it,  fair  weather  or  foul.  What  a  man 
says  he'll  do,  I  hold  him  bound  to  do,  unless  he's  re- 
leased, either  by  the  other,  or  by  peculiar  circum- 
stances, and  then  only  if  the  other  will  suffer  no  harm. 
But  that  don't  apply  here.  Things  can't  be  put  back 
as  they  were  before  this  promise  was  given.  And 
that's  the  point.  If  you  pass  your  word  to  do  any- 
thing, no  matter  what,  on  condition  that  somebody 
else  will  do  something,  and  they  do  it,  then  you're 

376 


tbe  Greatest  Gift  377 

bound  to  keep  your  word.  If  you  don't  do  it,  then 
you've  no  right  to  mix  with  honest  men." 

"But  supposing  you're  deceived  and  tricked  into 
making  a  promise,  what  then?" 

"  Why,  you  must  go  through  with  it,"  answered 
the  old  man  readily  and  bluntly.  "No  man  has  a 
right  to  mortgage  his  honor  in  order  to  clothe  his  folly. 
Would  you  have  a  man  chop  his  helm  off  to  carve  a 
new  figure-head  out  of  it.  The  time  to  think  of  con- 
sequences was  when  you  were  enjoying  the  price  of 
your  promised  honor.  Not  now,  lad  ;  it's  too  late." 

"Think  what  she  is  and  who  she  is,"  said  Godfrey. 

"Shame  on  you, Godfrey,  for  such  a  thought  as  that  !" 
cried  the  captain.  "On  God  Almighty's  deck  we're 
all  steerage  passengers.  There's  no  saloon  and  first 
and  second  class,  with  its  dainty  bits  for  this  one,  and 
its  rough  fare  for  another.  And  the  want  of  class  and 
caste  that's  good  enough  for  God,  please  Him,  shall  be 
always  good  enough  for  me,  aye,  and  good  enough 
for  mine  too.  Do  you  think  that  the  wealth  which 
alone  marks  me  off  from  the  humblest  fisherman  in 
Seacove  is  given  to  me  by  God  that  I  may  buy  His 
favor  with  it  ?  The  difference  between  you  and  Esther 
Southerst  is  not  that  you  are  rich  and  she  poor,  but 
that  she  is  wronged,  and  you  have  wronged  her.  For 
that,  money  is  no  excuse  ;  it's  an  aggravation  of  a 
coward's  act. " 

Godfrey  made  no  reply  ;  and  the  captain  after  a 
pause  said  : 

"You  see  now — for  my  code's  simple  enough — why 
I  say  you  must  keep  your  word.  Why  do  you  re- 
fuse?" 


378  Ube  Greatest  6ftt 

"I  hate  her,"  answered  the  cripple. 

"Dishonor  can't  sail  under  the  colors  of  hate.  Your 
duty  is  to  do  her  justice. " 

"She  set  her  snare  to  catch  me,  not  I  her,"  was  the 
reply. 

"What  was  in  your  thoughts  when  you  deceived 
her?" 

"  She  threw  herself  at  me  and  lied  to  me." 

"And  you  opened  your  arms  to  catch  her  and  lied 
to  her,"  replied  the  captain  sternly.  "How  do  you 
say  she  deceived  you  ?  " 

"She  made  me  think  her  love  was  genuine.  That 
she  cared  for  me  and  wanted  me  for  myself,"  he 
laughed  scornfully. 

' '  Well  ?  "  asked  the  captain. 

"You  have  seen  her,  haven't  you? "  returned  God- 
frey, looking  round.  "She  is  a  liar,  a  cunning,  devil- 
ish, hateful  liar ;  and  cares  as  much  for  me — as  I  do 
for  her,"  with  a  bitter  laugh.  "  We  should  make  a 
pleasant,  loving  couple." 

"A  laugh  like  that  sounds  to  me  like  the  grating  of 
a  good  ship's  keel  on  a  sunken  reef.  Godfrey,  if  you 
have  a  spark  of  manliness  or  honor  in  you,  you  will 
make  this  woman  the  only  reparation  in  your  power." 

"  My  dear  father,  you  don't  know  the  woman.  I  do. 
You  have  seen  her  once  with  the  mask  on  her  face, 
and  gloves  on  her  hands.  I  have  seen  her  fifty  times, 
without  either  mask  or  gloves ;  and  I  tell  you  she's  a 
devil.  She's  deceived  you,  as  she  deceived  me.  Give 
her  money  ;  five  hundred,  a  thousand  pounds — nay, 
half  of  all  the  money  you  would  ever  think  of  leaving 
to  me — but  don't  ask  me  to  marry  her  unless—"  and 


TTbe  Greatest  <3ift  379 

his  voice  sank  to  a  tone  of  deadly  earnest — "you 
want  to  see  me  hanged  for  wife  murder ;  for  as  sure 
as  there's  a  sky  above  us  I  should  take  her  life  within 
half  a  year." 

"Godfrey,  what  are  you  saying?"  cried  the  old 
man. 

"The  truth— the  truth  only.  Did  she  tell  you  that 
I've  tried  it  twice  ?  Once  when  I  waited  day  after  day 
with  stealthy  eagerness  ;  and  once,  recently,  when  I 
met  her  on  the  cliff.  Would  to  Heaven  I  had  done  it, 
too.  But  she's  a  devil.  She  knew  what  I  meant,  and 
laughed  at  me.  Heavens,  it  makes  me  mad  with  lust 
for  her  life  when  I  think  of  it,"  he  exclaimed  passion- 
ately. 

The  captain  could  say  nothing.  His  face  had 
blanched  to  a  deathly  pallor  and  the  beads  of  perspi- 
artion  stood  on  his  forehead,  till  he  wiped  them  away 
with  a  trembling  hand. 

He  had  never  expected  anything  like  this,  and  it 
roused  into  activity  all  his  fears  for  his  son's  sanity. 

"  Is  this  true?  "  he  murmured,  after  a  time. 

"Ask  Esther  Southerst  herself,"  replied  Godfrey 
bluntly.  "You  seem  to  doubt  my  word." 

"  No.  no,  my  boy.  I  don't.  What  then — what  will 
you  do  ?  " 

Astonishment,  pain,  and  fear  had  driven  all  thoughts 
of  sternness  and  authority  out  of  his  mind.  The 
positions  seemed  almost  reversed.  It  was  the  cripple 
who  was  now  the  master  of  the  position. 

He  did  not  reply  directly,  but  sat  thinking  intently, 
pressing  his  face  upon  the  back  of  his  hand.  Then  he 
looked  up  in  the  captain's  face  and  saw  the  paleness 


380  tlbe  Greatest  (Bitt, 

and  the  expression  of  anguish  on  it ;  and  his  love  for  the 
old  man  moved  him  to  softness. 

"Father,  I  have  frightened  you, "he  said,  and  he 
put  his  long,  white  fingers  on  the  captain's  arm,  "  and 
I  fear  I  have  sadly  disappointed  you.  I  know  how 
you  prize  our  good  name — and  I  have  shamed  it.  If 
I  could  marry  this  woman,  I  would,  for  your  sake  ; 
but  I  dare  not,  I  dare  not.  Evil  would  come  of  it. 
You  must  find  some  other  way.  I  am  sorry."  As  he 
finished,  he  bent  his  head  forward  and  leant  it  against 
the  hand  which  rested  on  the  captain's  arm. 

They  were  both  silent,  until  the  captain,  making  a 
great  effort,  said,  in  a  voice  which  was  very  uneven  : 

"  Who  will  break  this  to  poor  Margery  ?  " 

The  cripple  started  and  trembled,  but  did  not  look 
up,  and  made  no  attempt  to  answer. 

"Godfrey,  you  will  have  to  play  the  man  in  this. 
Will  you  tell  her,  or  shall  I  ?  "  said  the  captain. 

"Must  she  be  told?"  asked  the  other,  standing  up 
and  looking  suddenly  with  an  expression  of  imploring 
entreaty  and  eager  suspense  in  his  face  that  stabbed 
the  captain's  heart. 

He  waited  a  minute,  returning  his  son's  gaze  steadily, 
and  then,  drawing  his  right  hand  from  his  pocket,  he 
laid  it  on  his  shoulder.  When  he  answered,  his  voice 
was  quite  clear,  and  his  manner  quite  firm  again. 

"Godfrey,  lad,  you  can  never  marry  Margery." 

The  cripple  trembled  at  the  words  till  he  seemed  to 
shrink  away  from  the  old  man's  grasp.  He  looked 
appealingly  into  his  eyes,  and  his  own  dropped  before 
the  steady  decision  he  saw  in  his  father's  face.  He 
passed  his  tongue  over  his  dried,  almost  whitened 


Ube  Greatest  Gift*  ssi 

lips,  and  then   bit  the  under  lip  until  the  blood  nearly 
came. 

"  I  have  been  waiting  for  those  words  all  day,  and 
fearing  them,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  dry  and  husky,  and 
scarcely  louder  than  a  whisper.  "  Must  it  be  so?" 

"Could  you  marry  her  while,  in  God's  sight,  you 
have  a  wife  now  ?  You  have  pleaded  to  be  released 
from  your  pledge  because  you  fear  to  do  murder. 
Could  you  stand  beside  another  at  the  altar  with  a 
perjured  pledge  between  you  ?  " 

"  Margery  need  not  know,"  he  said,  casting  furtive 
glances  about  as  if  in  search  of  some  respite  from  what 
he  feared.  Anything  to  save  him  from  losing  Margery. 

"Would  you  deceive  her  as  you  deceived  the 
other?  "  asked  the  captain  very  sternly. 

"  No  ;  but  she  would  be  true  to  me.  She  loves  me. 
She  will  forgive  me.  See,  father,  I  will  do  anything, 
give  anything  to  stave  off  this.  I  cannot  bear  even 
to  think  of  it.  All  day  I  have  been  thinking  of  it,  till 
I  swear  I  am  like  a  madman.  You  don't  know  what 
Margery's  love  is  to  me.  You  cannot  know.  You 
cannot  think  how  life  glooms  before  me  without  her. 
I  am  not  like  other  men.  They  are  strong  and  active  : 
they  have  resources  to  which  they  can  fly,  and  find  in 
their  physical  strength  some  help,  distraction,  and  medi- 
cine for  the  mind.  I  cannot  do  this.  I  have  nothing 
but  Margery,  and  if  you  take  her  from  me  I  shall  die. 
Ah  !  I  would  not  live  without  her.  Nay,  by  Heaven  ! 
I  will  not. " 

"Godfrey,"  said  the  old  man  again  sternly.  "Your 
life  is  not  yours,  but  God's. " 

"What  care  I  for  that  ?  "  cried  the  cripple  desperately. 


382  Ube  Greatest  6fft. 

"  What  is  God  to  me  if  He  robs  me  of  Margery  ?  I 
do  not  want  His  life.  I  hate  it.  It  is  no  gift,  but  a 
curse.  I  fling  it  back  to  Him.  It  is  worse  than  noth- 
ing to  me." 

"  Boy,  boy,  you  break  my  heart  with  this  wild  blas- 
phemy !  "  cried  the  captain  in  distress.  "  It  is  not 
God,  but  your  own  wicked  deed  that  stands  between 
you  and  Margery." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know,"  answered  the  cripple,  recalled 
to  some  self-restraint  by  his  father's  outburst  and  grief. 
"  I  will  try  to  be  quieter.  I  will  try  to  bear  it.  It 
may  not  be  for  long.  I  have  seen  it  coming." 

He  sighed  heavily,  and,  sitting  down  again  in  his 
chair,  he  clasped  his  hands,  interlocking  the  fingers 
tightly,  and  pressing  them  between  his  knees,  then 
drew  his  body  forward,  and  with  bent  head  he  rocked 
himself  to  and  fro  in  anguish  so  manifest  that  the 
captain's  heart  bled  for  him. 

"  Father,  I  can  bear  no  more  to-night,"  he  said,  ris- 
ing quickly.  "  I  have  done  wrong — a  cruel  wrong,  it 
may  be,  but  I  am  suffering  enough  punishment  now. 
Good-night." 

And  he  left  the  room,  and,  passing  through  the  hall 
and  up  the  wide  staircase  with  quick,  nervous  foot- 
steps, lest  any  one  should  meet  and  intercept  him,  he 
fled  to  his  own  room.  There,  locking  the  door,  he  cast 
himself  in  the  dark  on  to  his  bed,  and  lay  prone, 
shaken  by  a  passion-tempest  of  awful  despair. 

His  distress  was  aggravated  much  by  his  own  mor- 
bid imaginings,  which  left  him  with  absolutely  no 
spot  or  flick  of  light  in  a  future  which  was  bereft  of 
Margery.  This  had  been  always  the  habit  of  his  mind. 


Ube  Greatest  (Mft.  383 

Whatever  he  desired  for  the  moment  was  all  in  all  to 
him — whatever  was  threatened  to  be  taken  from  him 
became  the  one  possession  of  all  that  had  any  value 
for  him. 

In  Margery's  case,  this  feeling  was  intensified  and 
concentrated  to  an  almost  unbearable  degree.  He  had 
for  her  as  much  love  as  his  nature  could  feel  for  any 
one  ;  and  this  altogether  apart  from  and  in  addition  to 
the  more  selfish  pleasure  which  he  felt  in  her  pres- 
ence. 

Thus  to  him  the  prospect  of  a  life  without  her  was 
more  appalling  than  the  thought  of  death. 

What  he  feared  about  death  was  what  many  fear — 
the  act  of  dying,  not  the  after  possibilities.  The  sole 
feeling  he  had  in  contemplating  death  was  the  yielding 
up  of  whatever  there  was  to  make  life  pleasant.  The 
moment  the  balance  showed  more  pain  than  pleasure 
in  living,  he  was  eager  to  die. 

All  the  vague  thoughts  which  crowded  his  mind 
through  the  long  hours  of  the  night  were  tinged  by 
reflections  of  this  leading  thought.  All  night  long  he 
was  balancing  the  scale — whether  to  live  or  die. 

And  there  was  but  one  hope,  faint  and  shadowy  and 
feeble,  yet  strong  enough  to  save  the  scale  of  life  from 
kicking  the  beam.  Was  there  not  yet  a  chance  of 
winning  Margery?  Did  she  love  him  enough  to  over- 
look that  miserable  intrigue  with  Esther?  Over  and 
over  and  over  again  he  turned  the  matter  in  his 
thoughts,  viewing  it  from  every  point  in  which  it 
seemed  to  offer  any  palliation  of  his  wrong,  any  pros- 
pect of  her  forgiveness. 

This  was  why  he  had  forced  the  question  upon  he; 


384  Ube  Greatest  <Mft 

that  evening,  seeking  to  probe  and  try  and  test  the 
strength  of  her  love  ;  to  win  a  clear  confession  of  it. 
A  hundred  times  he  recalled  the  memory  of  that  kiss 
she  had  pressed  on  his  forehead ;  the  ecstasy  in  which 
he  had  felt  that  even  death  at  such  a  moment  would  be 
welcome. 

Then  by  a  wayward  turn,  his  thoughts  rushed  off  to 
Esther  Southerst,  and  fastened  on  the  time  when  he 
had  sought  to  kill  her. 

How  different  had  seemed  to  him  the  idea  of  death  in 
connection  with  those  two.  The  one  he  would  have 
killed  with  infinite  pleasure  and  without  even  a  pass- 
ing sense  of  remorse.  At  the  touch  of  the  other's 
lips  he  could  have  died  with  a  blessed  feeling  of  peace 
and  rest.  That  contrast  was  in  his  thoughts  when  he 
sank  into  the  few  intervals  of  unrestful,  dream-broken, 
troubled  slumber.  He  dreamt  then  a  dream  which 
seemed  more  vivid  than  life. 

It  was  that  he  and  Margery  were  both  dead  ;  wan- 
dering like  happy  children,  hand  in  hand,  in  a  strange 
but  beautiful  country,  where  everything  seemed  calm, 
peaceful,  and  abidingly  happy.  One  by  one  a  thou- 
sand incidents  occurred,  as  if  years  of  this  blissful  state 
had  passed — as  will  happen  in  dreams  when  the  brain 
is  roused  and  feverish. 

He  woke  at  a  point  of  some  change  in  the  dream — 
he  had  not  slept  more  than  a  few  minutes — but  the 
dream  had  given  a  new  turn  to  his  thoughts.  If 
only  he  and  Margery  could  die  together.  He  fought 
with  this,  wrestling  to  put  it  quite  away  from  him  and 
out  of  his  thoughts  altogether.  He  compelled  himself 
to  think  of  other  matters ;  of  his  father,  of  Dallas,  of 


Ube  Greatest  <3tft  385 

Esther  Southerst,  even  of  Mrs.  Rudyer  and  what  Dallas 
had  said  of  her. 

But  in  between  the  gaps  of  thought,  thrusting  itself 
through  the  other  thoughts  and  getting  itself  mixed  up 
inextricably  with  them,  foiling  his  efforts  to  forget  it, 
and  mocking  his  attempts  to  be  oblivious  of  it,  back  it 
came  in  different  guises,  but  always  with  the  one  lead- 
ing strain  : 

"  The  only  chance  of  happiness." 

Thinking  once  of  Dallas  he  recalled  his  promise.  It 
had  been  given  under  a  threat  ;  and  no  such  promise 
was  ever  binding.  He  would  do  nothing  against  his 
own  life,  he  had  said,  without  giving  Dallas  time  to 
get  to  see  him.  It  was  a  madman's  trick  to  give  a 
promise  like  that.  He  had  no  right  to  ask  for  it.  It 
was  not  binding.  It  was  absurd,  childish,  silly,  to 
expect  any  one  to  remember  such  a  pledge.  Then  he 
turned  as  suddenly  the  other  way,  and  remembered 
what  his  father  had  said  about  a  pledged  word.  That 
was  right.  He  would  call  back  the  word  he  had 
given. 

At  this,  when  he  had  made  the  resolve,  he  rose  from 
the  bed,  lit  a  lamp,  and  began  to  think  how  he  should 
word  a  letter.  This  gave  him  occupation.  He  was 
working  toward  an  end.  He  didn't  acknowledge  what 
that  end  was,  even  to  himself.  But  he  was  conscious 
of  it  with  a  dim,  misty  sense  of  something  that  prom- 
ised happiness.  His  letter,  when  he  had  finished  the 
draft  of  it,  was  short. 

"  DEAR     MR.     DALLAS, — The    circumstances   under 
which  we  spoke  on  Saturday  night  have  now  been  quite 
25 


386  Ube  (Breatest  Gift. 

changed,  and  of  course  all  I  said  must  be  taken  to 
have  changed  with  them.  I  make  no  promises. — 
Yours  ever,  "  G.  DRURY.  " 

He  read  this  over  several  times,  but  made  no  alter- 
ation in  it,  and  at  length  made  a  fair  copy  of  it,  ad- 
dressed the  envelope,  and  fastened  it.  As  he  'did  this 
he  murmured  the  name  : 

"Margery  !  my  Margery!" 

Then  some  faint  reflection  of  the  feeling  he  had 
known  when  he  had  laid  his  head  on  Margery's  bosom, 
and  heard  her  say  she  loved  him,  and  felt  the  touch  of 
her  lips  on  his  face,  rose  within  him,  and  he  smiled. 
His  face  was  haggard  and  lined  and  drawn  with  his 
agony,  and  his  eyes  were  dark  circled,  and  his  lips 
were  bluish  and  dry,  and  the  expression  of  his  face 
was  that  of  intense  and  absorbing  melancholy,  yet  the 
smile  lighted  it  for  a  moment,  and  a  gleam  of  happier 
promise  shone  in  his  eyes,  making  the  face  beautiful, 
despite  its  stress  of  emotion.  It  was  the  memory  of 
his  dream-happiness  which  thus  illumined  the  gloom 
of  his  living  misery.  It  was  a  dream  of  possibility, 
and  before  morning-  came  his  active  brain  had  begun 
to  think  out  and  piece  together  the  means  for  its  ac- 
complishment. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

"  HULLO,  where's  Crips?  Here's  a  letter  for  him," 
said  Guy  the  next  morning,  bursting  into  the  room 
where  his  two  sisters  and  Mrs.  Rudyer  were  already  at 
breakfast. 

"  He's  not  come  down  yet,"  said  Nan. 

"  Lazy  beggar,"  replied  Guy,  putting  the  letter  down 
in  Godfrey's  place.  "Good-morning,  Mrs.  Rudyer. 
Morning,  girls.  Bit  pasty  this  morning,  Madge. 
You  don't  look  up  to  Dick  at  all." 

"We  don't  look  up  to  Guy,  that's  certain,"  said  Nan. 

"Funny  girl  you,  Nan.  Witty  little  thing.  That 
beggar  Momerie's  bringing  out  all  your  points,  eh  ? 
Don't  blame  you.  You'll  want  something  to  keep 
your  spirits  up  with  a  wooden  spoon  like  that.  Eh, 
Mrs.  Rudyer?  " 

The  widow  had  laughed  at  this,  because  it  told 
against  Nan. 

"A  wooden  spoon's  better  than  a  brass  crock." 

"That's  dreadfully  feeble,  considered  as  a  retort.  So 
disgustingly  personal,  and  so  rough  on  the  rest  of  the 
brazen  family— such  a  reflection  on  yourself."  And 
the  widow  encouraged  him  with  another  laugh  for 
this. 

Nan,  not  having  another  retort  ready,  passed  it  over 
in  silence. 

387 


388  Ubc  eceatest  0ift. 

But  though  Guy  would  laugh  at  Nan  himself,  he  did 
not  at  all  approve  of  Mrs.  Rudyer  doing  it,  so  he  turned 
to  her  next. 

"  Fine  morning  for  a  sail,  Mrs.  Rudyer.  You  like  the 
sea.  Disposed  for  a  spin  on  the  Flirt  f  And  he 
grinned  in  mischievous  remembrance  of  her  former 
experience. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  can't  manage  it  to-day,"  she  an- 
swered. 

"It's  as  smooth  as  a  mill  pond,  with  a  nice 
little  soldier's  breeze.  Like  it  was  when  you  went 
out  once  before.  Remember  ? "  And  he  laughed 
again. 

"Did  I  go?  I  only  remember  once,  and  then  it 
wasn't  smooth,  because  I  know  the  boy  who  was 
steering  was  unable  to  control  the  boat,  and  very 
stupidly  wetted  me  through.  It  was  that  young  hob- 
ble-de-hoy, Alan  Ramsay's  brother,  I  think,  or  some 
such  boy,  wasn't  it  ?  "  And  she  smiled  graciously  at 
Guy. 

Nan  coughed  provokingly. 

"  Don't  pay  to  stroke  you  the  wrong  way  ;  your 
claws  are  too  sharp,"  answered  Guy,  coloring,  and 
looking  death  at  Nan  for  laughing. 

"I  think  you'd  better  get  your  breakfast,  Guy,  hadn't 
you  ? "  said  Margery  quietly.  "  Besides,  it's  past  ten 
o'clock,  and  we've  all  finished." 

"Yes,  don't  be  too  hard  on  the  poor  boy,  Mrs.  Rud- 
yer," put  in  Nan.  "You'll  spoil  his  appetite.  Re- 
member he's  young,  and  no  match  for  your  slings  and 
arrows. " 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  meaning  underneath  this, 


Greatest  (Bift  389 

and  Mrs.  Rudyer  would  have  retorted  had  not  a  serv- 
ant entered. 

"A  telegram — for  Miss  Nan,  miss,"  she  said  to 
Margery. 

"  For  me  ?  "  said  Nan  in  astonishment. 

"  By  Jove,  he  must  be  in  earnest  to  go  and  pop  by 
telegraph.  Poor  fellow,"  cried  Guy.  "Read  it  out, 
Nan.  Let's  hear  the  newest  form  of  short  proposal  at 
twelve  words  for  sixpence,  with  a  halfpenny  for  every 
extra  word.  Make  a  chap  grudgy  of  his  dearests  and 
darlings  that." 

"What  is  it,  dear?"  asked  Margery. 

"It's — it's  nothing,"  answered  Nan,  blushing  a  fiery 
red  and  then  paling,  as  she  folded  the  telegram  hastily 
and  put  it  away  in  her  pocket. 

"Is  it  from  your  stockbroker,  Nan?"  said  Guy 
again,  with  a  laugh.  "Some  of  your  superfluous 
thousands  gone  up  or  down  or  squash-bang.  No,  I 
pin  my  faith  to  a  proposal.  Just  look  at  your  face. 
You're  as  red  as  young  Sal  Mawdle's  hair.  And  now 
I'll  be  hanged  if  you're  not  as  white  as  Crips  when  his 
liver  goes  wrong. " 

"Guy!"  said  Margery. 

"All  right,  Madge;  beg  your  pardon.  I  ought  to 
have  said  Godfrey,  I  know.  I'm  very  sorry.  When 
I  was  young  I  was  often  informed  that  I  ought  never 
to  deride  the  ailments  or  the  afflictions  of  the  aged  or 
the  crip.  ..  .  Good  morning,  Godfrey,"  he  said  hastily, 
checking  himself  and  turning  very  red  and  confused  as 
the  cripple  came  into  the  room. 

"Excuse  me,  if  I  open  this,"  said  Godfrey,  taking 
up  his  letter,  after  he  had  greeted  them  all.  He  was 


390  Ube  Greatest  6ftt 

looking  very  white  and  very  ill.  He  read  the  letter — 
it  was  that  from  Hugh  Dallas  enclosing  Mrs.  Rudyer's 
— and  then  picked  up  the  enclosure  which  had  fallen 
out  of  the  envelope  and  on  to  the  table  where  Mrs. 
Rudyer  herself  saw  it. 

"  I  say,  Godfrey,"  began  Guy,  who  could  never  be 
silent  for  long  together.  "What  do  you  think  of  the 
latest  ?  Here's  Nan,  if  you  please,  beginning  the  day 
with  a  telegram." 

The  cripple  was  in  that  frame  of  mind  in  which  any- 
thing unusual  is  regarded  as  suspicious. 

"Who  from  ?  "  he  asked,  looking  sharply  at  the  girl. 

"That's  the  joke,"  said  Guy.  "That  fellow  Mom- 
erie  has  popped  the  question  by  wire/' 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked,  Godfrey  brusquely. 

"Sorry  my  throat  isn't  bigger  so  that  you  could  jump 
down  it  more  comfortably.  Traid  you'll  hurt  your- 
self one  of  these  days  trying  at  it,"  said  Guy  dryly. 
Godfrey's  bluff,  imperious  tone  always  nettled  Guy. 

"  Well,  it's  coming  to  a  pass  if  one  has  to  carry  about 
a  dictionary  of  polite  terms  every  time  one  speaks  to 
a  schoolboy,"  sneered  Godfrey;  and  Mrs.  Rudyer 
pointed  the  remark  with  a  particularly  irritating  laugh. 

"What  a  pleasant,  cheery,  genial,  merry,  chirpy 
little  cricket  you  are,  Godfrey;  always  so  light-hearted 
and  jolly.  A  regular  Mark  Tapley.  Wonder  where 
on  earth  you  get  that  fund  of  good-humor  from  !  It's 
marvelous  in  me  that  you  never  scowl,  or  mutter,  or 
growl,  or  look  bilious,  or  spiteful.  Any  one  to  see  you 
now  never  ought  to  feel  melancholy  any  more.  You 
look  quite  as  blithe  and  festive  as  a  pauper's  corpse. 
All  right,  Margery,  you  needn't  look  like  that.  That 


Ube  Greatest  0ift,  391 

playful  little  kitten  can  take  his  own  part  without  your 
slicing  in."  Guy  was  getting  angry. 

"You  shouldn't  check  Guy's  gentlemanly  instinct 
of  repartee,  Margery,"  said  Godfrey.  '"That  sort  of 
genius  ought  not  to  be  cramped  by  any  foolish  re- 
strictions as  to  taste  or  tact." 

"Tact,"  retorted  Guy,  with  a  short  laugh  of  sarcasm. 
"Tact,  eh?  Yes,  you're  a  model  of  tact." 

"That's  only  a  poor  sort  of  sarcasm,  my  boy,"  said 
Godfrey  patronizingly,  "which  consists  in  repeating  a 
word  with  a  kind  of  low,  vulgar  snort  like  yours.  It 
possesses  neither  the  keenness  of  the  rapier,  nor  the 
crude  force  of  the  bludgeon.  It  is,  in  fact,  suggestive 
of  little  more  than  poverty  of  wit." 

"Oh,  stow  it,"  answered  Guy. 

"You  didn't  find  out  who  the  mysterious  telegram 
was  from,  Mr.  Godfrey,"  said  the  widow,  prompted 
by  curiosity. 

"I've  heard  enough  about  that  telegram  from  Guy, 
I  think,  without  troubling  his  sister,  Mrs.  Rudyer.  I 
might  not  get  off  so  well  from  Nan  ;  her  claws  are 
sharper  than  a  school-boy's  nails." 

"But  she  generally  keeps  them  as  close  as  she  has 
kept  that  telegram,"  returned  the  widow,  with  gracious 
spite. 

"Have  we  finished  breakfast?"  asked  Margery. 
"If  so,  I  think  we  may  as  well  go.  We  all  seem 
rather  as  if  we  were  practising  unpleasant  personalities. 
Nan,  I  want  to  speak  to  you." 

Margery  rose  from  the  table,  and  the  two  girls  left 
the  room  together. 

"  Is  the  telegram  any  bad  news,  dear?  " 


392  tlbe  Greatest  (Bift 

"I  don't  know.     I — I  can't  say.     I  must  wait." 

She  spoke  with  such  hesitation  and  embarrassment 
that  Margery  looked  meaningly  into  her  face  and 
smiled. 

"Is  it—" 

"No,  of  course  not,  "said  Nan,  reddening,  and  speak- 
ing a  little  indignantly.  "  I'll  tell  you  about  it  pres- 
ently, if  I  can.  But  it's  not  my  secret." 

"What  a  mystery!  Well,  it'll  keep,  I  suppose  ? 
I'm  going  to  see  what's  the  matter  with  uncle.  Are 
you  coming?"  asked  Margery,  running  lightly  up  the 
broad  staircase  and  looking  over  the  balustrade  at  the 
younger  girl.  Then  she  stopped,  and  leaning  down 
to  Nan  said,  somewhat  archly,  "  There  was  more  than 
surprise  in  that  blush  of  yours,  when  you  opened  that 
telegram.  You  won't  deceive  me,  young  sis.  Who- 
ever that  was  .  .  ."  and  she  nodded  her  head  and 
laughed  very  significantly,  and  ran  on  up  the  stair- 
case. 

"What  nonsense,  Madge, "  said  Nan,  blushing  even 
more  vividly  than  before,  as  she  turned  away  to  the 
library.  She  went  through  the  larger  room  and  into 
the  sanctum,  and  having  carefully  closed  the  door,  she 
took  out  the  telegram  and  read  it  with  close,  thought- 
ful care. 

"Am  sending  most  important  letter  by  train  ad- 
dressed to  you  at  Seacove  Station.  Urgent  and  pri- 
vate. Say  nothing  till  you  have  read  letter. — DAL- 
LAS." 

"What  can  it  mean  ?"  she  asked   herself.     "And 


Greatest  ottt.  393 

why  does  he  select  me  ? "  The  color  rose  at  this  and 
her  heart  beat.  "Why  not  choose  his— Mrs.  Rud- 
yer?  "  Color  faded  here.  "I've  a  good  mind  not  to 
have  anything  to  do  with  it.  I  don't  want  to  have  any 
letters.  I—" 

"Hallo,  here  you  are,  Nan  !  Come  on  out,  there's 
a  good  sort.  That  fellow  Crips  fairly  makes  me  sick. 
Let's  have  a  row  or  a  sail.  It's  a  ripping  day  for  a 
sail  ;  and  if  you  like  it,  the  whiting  on  the  black  rock'll 
bite  like  winking." 

Nan  looked  out  of  the  window  at  the  sky,  as  if  in 
doubt,  for  an  instant,  but  refused  the  next  minute  ; 
and  when  her  brother  had  gone  away  disconsolate, 
she  said  to  herself,  as  if  in  excuse  : 

"  I  don't  want  his  letters  ;  but  I'd  better  see  what  it 
all  means,"  and  then  she  went  to  put  on  her  hat  to  go 
to  the  station  and  fetch  the  letter  which  was  brought 
to  her  by  a  special  messenger  from  Hugh  Dallas. 

The  letter  frightened  as  well  as  excited  her. 

"  My  DEAR  Miss  NAN, — I  am  obliged  to  make  what 
will  sound  to  you  a  very  strange  request,  since  I  can- 
not put  on  paper  the  reasons  which  I  have.  When  I 
tell  you  that  in  my  opinion  they  may  be  matters  of  life 
and  death,  you  will  feel  sure  that  they  are  exceedingly 
grave  and  urgent.  I  hope  to  be  at  the  Manor  House 
to-morrow  or  the  next  day ;  and  then  I  will  tell  you 
all  that  you  should  know.  But  in  the  meantime,  please 
give  your  most  careful  attention  to  this. 

"  By  the  time  you  get  this,  within  a  short  time  of  it, 
the  engagement  between  your  sister  and  Mr.  Godfrey 
will  be  broken  off.  The  circumstances  which  have  led 


394  Ufoe  Greatest  Gift. 

to  this  are  so  painful  and  distressing  that  the  most 
serious  consequences  are  to  be  feared.  Those  conse- 
quences may  threaten  your  sister  with  most  serious 
danger  ;  and  I  write  to  warn  you  not  to  leave  her  alone 
with  Godfrey,  scarcely  to  leave  her  side  either  day  or 
night — especially  the  latter — until  I  have  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  talking  to  you. 

"  I  write  to  you  because,  of  all  persons  at  the  Manor 
House,  I  choose  you  as  most  likely  to  understand  that 
I  should  not  take  such  a  course  as  this  without  serious 
reason  ;  and,  secondly,  because  you  can  do  what  will 
be  needed  in  the  matter  of  watchfulness  better  than 
any  one  else.  I  think  you  had  better  not  tell  your 
sister,  unless  you  find  that  it  is  necessary  for  her 
safety. 

"  Your  sincere  friend, 

"  HUGH  DALLAS. 

"P.  S. — I  open  this  to  say  I  have  changed  my  plan. 
I  have  determined  to  send  this  by  special  messenger 
with  instructions  to  give  it  into  your  hands  and  your 
hands  only.  I  can  therefore  speak  a  little  more  plainly 
than  in  the  foregoing,  which  I  have  not  time  to  rewrite. 
The  reason  of  my  fear  is  this.  When  he  saw  that  the 
engagement  was  likely  to  be  broken  off,  G.  D.  was  so 
dejected  that  he  thought  of  laying  violent  hands  on  his 
own  life — and  perhaps  on  that  of  another.  When  at 
the  Manor  House  on  Saturday  I  obtained  from  him  a 
promise  that  he  would  make  no  attempt  on  his  life  until 
he  had  withdrawn  the  word  he  gave.  That  withdrawal 
may  reach  me  at  any  moment,  and  I  greatly  fear  what 
may  happen.  You  will  see  now  why  I  have  lost  no 


Ube  Greatest  (Bift  395 

time  in  telling  you  to  watch  and  guard  your  sister  until 
either  Godfrey  can  be  removed  or  other  arrangements 
made. 

"  I  should  not  put  such  a  task  upon  you  were  I  not 
certain  that  you  are  resourceful  enough  to  perform  it. 

"Courage.  Rely  upon  yourself.  You  are  my  ally, 

"H.  D." 

As  Nan  read  the  letter,  a  feeling  at  first  of  vague  dis- 
appointment disturbed  her.  She  had  expected  some- 
thing more  closely  affecting  herself — in  fact,  she  herself 
hardly  understood  the  feelings  which  had  been  raised 
by  the  telegram. 

But  the  sense  of  disappointment  vanished  rapidly 
and  gave  way  to  consternation  and  alarm  as  she  read 
on  ;  and  at  the  conclusion  of  the  first  part  the  uncer- 
tainty of  the  wording  frightened  her  much.  The  second 
part,  though  it  put  the  truth  nakedly  and  showed  how 
real  the  danger  might  be,  had  a  somewhat  reassuring 
effect. 

She  thought  she  could  detect  Dallas's  reason  for  wish- 
ing to  inform  her  as  fully  as  possible.  He  knew  how 
distasteful  suspense  was  to  her ;  and  she  thanked  him 
mentally  for  his  thoughtfulness.  It  pleased  her  to  pic- 
ture him  thinking  thus  for  her. 

The  last  words,  the  expression  of  confidence  and  the 
little  word,  "Courage,"  affected  her  most  pleasurably. 
When  she  read  it  the  second  time — she  was  lingering 
slowly  by  the  roadside  to  do  this — she  looked  round 
to  see  that  no  one  was  in  sight  to  observe  her,  and 
pressed  it  to  her  lips,  kissing  the  spot  where  the  word 
"Courage"  was  written. 


396  ttbe  6teatest  Gift, 

Then  she  hurried  on  to  the  Manor  House,  deter- 
mined to  do  all  that  was  in  her  power  to  carry  out  the 
charge  laid  on  her.  It  was  not  till  then  that  she  be- 
gan to  think  of  the  cause  of  all — the  breaking  of  the 
engagement.  What  on  earth  could  be  the  cause? 
She  took  the  letter  out  again  to  see  if  she  could  have 
missed  any  sentences  saying  what  it  was.  She  had 
not ;  and  a  very  feminine  feeling  of  pique  at  his  silence 
on  the  point  stirred  her. 

As  the  excitement  of  the  news  subsided,  its  extreme 
gravity  pressed  home  upon  her  with  increasing  effect, 
and  before  she  reached  home  her  sense  of  reponsibility 
and  her  fears  had  very  greatly  developed. 

She  went  at  once  to  Margery's  room,  and  found  her 
sitting  there  pale  and  puzzled. 

"Where  have  you  been,  Nan?"  asked  the  elder 
sister  eagerly.  "  I  have  been  looking  for  you.  What 
do  you  think  has  happened?  My  engagement  with 
Godfrey  is  broken  off." 

"  How  ?  "  asked  Nan,  showing  no  sign  of  surprise. 

"  Uncle  told  me  just  after  breakfast.  I  felt  so  guilty, 
Nan.  He  seemed  so  afraid  of  wounding  me,  and  was 
so  gentle  and  kind — and  all  the  time  1  was  longing 
just  to  throw  up  my  hands  for  very  joy.  It  seemed 
such  guilty  pleasure." 

"  Have  you  seen  Godfrey?"  asked  Nan,  in  a  mat- 
ter-of-fact way,  which  Margery  could  not  understand. 

"One  would  think  you  knew  what  had  happened, 
seeing  how  calmly  you  take  it,"  said  Margery. 

"I  am  not  calm,  really,  sis-sis,"  said  Nan,  kissing 
her  sister.  "  I  am  frightened,  I  think.  Have  you  seen 
Godfrey  ? " 


Greatest  Gift  397 


"Only  for  a  minute;  just  after  I  left  uncle.  He 
was  waiting  about,  I  think  to  see  me." 

"Well?"  when  Margery  stopped.  "What  did  he 
say  ?  " 

"He  is  not  himself  to-day.  It  was  sure  to  disturb 
him.  I  was  not  expecting  to  see  him,  and  —  and  I'm 
afraid  I  didn't  look  as  wretched  as  he  thought  I  ought 
to." 

"Ah  !  "  exclaimed  Nan,  in  a  tone  which  made  Mar- 
gery look  at  her. 

"You  know  how  brusque  he  is  sometimes.  He 
came  up  to  me  and  seized  my  wrist.  '  Are  you  glad, 
Margery  ?  '  he  asked.  I  told  him  what  was  true,  that 
I  scarcely  seemed  to  realize  what  had  happened. 
Then  he  held  my  wrist  for  a  long  time  without  a  word, 
and  looked  all  the  time  right  into  my  eyes,  with  such 
a  look  of  wild  sorrow  on  his  face  that  my  heart  bled 
to  see  it.  Poor  Godfrey  !  " 

'  '  Was  that  all  ?  "  asked  Nan  again. 

"No.  After  a  long  time,  he  asked  me  if  I  remem- 
bered what  had  passed  last  night,  and  whether  I  re- 
membered a  promise  I  had  made  to  kiss  him  if  he 
were  dying,  and  before  I  could  answer,  he  began  to 
talk  about  Alan,  and  whether,  now  that  I  was  free,  I 
should  ever  think  of  marrying  him.  I  could  not  help 
it,  Nan,"  Margery  broke  off;  "but  I  had  not  thought 
of  Alan  all  the  time,  and  the  sudden  mention  of  him 
made  me  blush  until  I  was  red  to  the  roots  of  my  hair. 
And  all  the  time  he  held  my  wrist  and  stared  into  my 
face,  his  own  growing  blacker  and  blacker  with  gather- 
ing anger.  Then  he  gave  me  a  last  look,  which  almost 
frightened  me,  and  threw  my  hand  away  from  him 


398  Cbe  Greatest  Gift 

violently,  and  cried  in  a  passionate  voice,  'My  God, 
Margery,  I  believe  you  are  glad,'  and  turned  away 
and  went  hurriedly  to  his  room." 

"You  frighten  me,  Madge,"  said  Nan. 

This  was  true  enough.  What  she  heard  seemed  to 
warrant  all  the  fears  which  lay  beneath  Hugh  Dallas's 
letter,  and  she  resolved  to  keep  a  close  watch. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

THE  effect  of  awakening  Nan's  suspicions  was  to 
arouse  her  immediately  to  an  almost  extravagant  con- 
dition of  excited  vigilance. 

Naturally  shrewd  and  observant,  all  her  faculties  of 
observation  were  at  once  forced  up  to  the  highest  de- 
gree, with  the  result  that  she  was  constantly  trying  to 
draw  conclusions  from  the  simplest  acts  which  she 
noted. 

During  the  whole  day  she  watched  Godfrey  with 
the  concentrated  vigilance  of  a  company  of  female 
detectives.  She  tried  to  see  every  look  of  his  eyes, 
every  expression  of  his  face,  and  every  movement  that 
he  made.  She  sought  to  picture  to  herself  how  a  char- 
acter like  his  would  be  likely  to  put  into  act  the  thoughts 
which  she  believed  him  to  be  harboring.  If  he  sat 
silent,  he  seemed  to  her  to  be  meditating  some  point 
of  his  scheme.  If  he  gesticulated,  or  talked  much,  or 
laughed,  she  read  the  act  as  a  wish  to  hide  his  real 
feelings.  Whatever  he  did,  she  found  some  explana- 
tion connecting  the  action  or  inaction  with  her  sus- 
picions ;  and  it  never  occurred  to  her  that  she  was 
absurdly  exaggerating  either  her  suspicions  or  the  sig- 
nificance of  his  movements. 

This  was  not  unnatural.  She  was  utterly  unac- 
quainted with  human  wickedness.  Her  own  nature 

399 


400  zrbe  Greatest  6itt. 

was  frank  and  free,  kind  and  loving ;  and  the  farthest 
thought  from  her  mind  was  that  of  cruelty  to  any  liv- 
ing thing. 

Thus  the  idea  that  Godfrey  should  meditate  any  crime, 
and  that  it  should  be  associated  with  the  idea  of  cruelty, 
was  inexpressibly  repugnant  to  her.  Moreover,  that 
repugnance  was  increased  a  thousandfold  by  the  fact 
that  the  object  of  the  purposed  cruelty  should  be  Mar- 
gery— and  her  suspicions  had  taken  the  form  of  cer- 
tainty on  this  point.  Her  love  for  Margery  was  as 
strong  in  her  as  any  religious  faith  could  be  ;  and  this 
love  armed  her  at  a  hundred  points  in  her  sister's  de- 
fense. Lastly,  the  fact  that  the  charge  had  been  laid 
upon  her  by  Hugh  Dallas  had  more  effect  than  she 
would  have  cared  to  acknowledge. 

All  these  causes  combined  to  rouse  her  to  a  pitch  of 
alarmed  vigilance. 

What  had  passed  between  Margery  and  herself  had 
given  her  matter  for  much  troubled  thought,  and  her 
fears  went  sailing  along,  swept  on  by  the  breeze  of 
impulsive  imagination,  until  she  began  to  ask  her- 
self what  Godfrey  would  do,  and  when  he  would 
do  it. 

At  first  the  mere  act  of  thinking  of  this  filled  her  with 
indescribable  alarm.  But  she  forced  herself  to  try  and 
think  consecutively,  and  gradually  her  ideas  took  a 
more  and  more  definite  shape. 

It  was  clear  that  Dallas  considered  the  danger  was 
immediate.  He  would  not  otherwise  have  warned  her, 
since  he  himself  was  coming  over  on  the  following'  day. 
Moreover,  he  appeared  to  expect  that  the  chief  danger 
v,-ould  be  at  night.  He  said  as  much  in  his  letter, 


Greatest  Gift.  401 

when  he  warned  her  not  to  leave  Margery's  side  either 
day  or  night — especially  the  latter.  And  as  she  thought 
over  the  matter,  she  came  to  the  conclusion  that  this 
was  certainly  the  more  probable  time  Godfrey  would 
choose. 

To  Nan  it  seemed  much  more  natural  to  associate 
any  such  deed  as  might  be  looked  for  in  the  present 
case  with  the  night  than  the  daytime  ;  and  yet  the  very 
reasonableness  of  this  notion  added  to  her  fears. 

She  resolved  not  to  relax  her  vigilance  during  the  day 
on  that  account,  however,  and  thus  she  followed  her 
sister  like  a  shadow,  until  Margery  herself  began  to 
notice  what  was  being  done. 

"Do  you  want  anything?"  she  asked,  when  Nan 
had  followed  her  out  of  the  room  for  the  twentieth 
time. 

"Yes,  Marge,  I  want  to  be  with  you  to-day,"  an- 
swered the  younger  girl. 

"Why?  Are  you  afraid  that  I  shall  do  anything 
rash  after  what  has  happened?"  she  asked,  with  a 
laugh.  "Or  are  you  afraid  that  Godfrey  will  eat 
me?  " 

"  The  breaking  off  of  the  engagement  has  given 
you  back  to  me,  sis-sis, "  answered  Nan,  with  sweet 
equivocation,  as  she  wound  an  arm  round  her  waist. 
"  I  like  to  feel  you  close  to  me." 

"Well,  you  are  keeping  close  enough  to  me,"  and 
Margery  laughed  again. 

"Oh,  that  Nan's  a  regular  spooney  Dick,"  cried 
Guy,  who  had  come  up  behind  them,  and  had  over- 
heard what  they  said.  "She's  always  wanting  to 
hang  over  some  one  or  other.  But  to-day  it's  no 
26 


402  zrbe  Greatest  Gift 

wonder.  Any  one  might  be  excused  for  going  a  bit 
mad  at  getting  shut  of  old  Crips  for  a  brother.  I  call 
it  fairly  spiffing.  But  I  say,  isn't  he  just  mad?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Guy  ?  "  asked  Nan  quickly, 
starting  at  the  word  he  used. 

"  Why,  .  that  he's  most  awfully  raggy  at  losing 
Marge.  But  how  beastly  close  you  have  kept  all 
this,"  he  said,  turning  to  the  elder  sister.  "There's 
only  one  thing  more  jolly  mysterious  than  this  breaking 
things  off,  and  that's  how  they  ever  got  started  at  all. 
You  never  cared  for  Crips,  did  you,  Marge  ;  or  if  you 
did,  why  the  dickens  have  you  broken  up  the  business? 
You  girls  are  awfully  queer  cattle." 

"You  boys  don't  understand  these  things,  Guy," 
said  Nan,  with  an  air  of  superiority. 

"You  shut  up,  Nan,  about  boys,"  retorted  Guy 
with  a  guffaw.  "  You  girls  don't  seem  to  do  much 
good  whether  you  understand  them  or  not.  You 
yourself  have  been  playing  fast  and  loose,  first  with  old 
Don,  and  then  with  that  cocky  Momerie  ;  and  now, 
here's  Margery  setting  the  whole  blessed  place  in  a 
regular  muddle,  first  because  she  thinks  she  will  marry 
Crips',  and  next  because  she  says  she  won't.  I  call  it 
rot." 

"Don't  mind  him,  dear,"  said  Nan  to  Margery. 
"  He  means  well,  but  he's  crude  in  his  speech.  In 
reality  he's  quite  as  glad  as  we  are  at  what  has  hap- 
pened." 

When  Nan  made  what  Guy  called  her  cutting 
speeches,  she  was  always  particularly  clear  in  her  pro- 
nunciation, and  distinct  in  tone.  She  was  now — and 
with  specially  unfortunate  effect,  as  Godfrey  chanced 


Ube  Greatest  (Bift.  403 

to  come  well  within  earshot,  and  overheard  the  last 
remark  from  the  landing  above  where  the  three  were 
standing. 

He  came  quickly  down  the  staircase,  looking  very 
angry,  indeed,  and  very  gloomy.  Nan  blushed  crim- 
son when  she  saw  him,  and,  to  make  matters  worse 
for  her,  Guy  laughed  hugely  at  her  discomfiture. 

"  I'm  glad  that  something  I've  been  able  to  do  has 
at  last  pleased  you  all  so  much,"  said  Godfrey,  as  he 
passed  by,  scowling  at  Nan.  "  It's  so  seldom  that  you 
all  three  do  agree,  that  your  present  unanimity  is  quite 
unique.  But  it  was  scarcely  necessary  for  you  to  get 
together  in  the  hall,  and  shout  your  joy  all  over  the 
house." 

"You  are  unjust,  Godfrey,"  answered  Margery. 
"You  have  heard  only  a  part  of  what  was  said,  and 
have  misunderstood  it." 

"  It's  not  very  easy  to  misunderstand  that  horse- 
laugh in  which  your  brother  is  accustomed  to  air  his 
pleasant  wit,"  sneered  Godfrey.  He  had  stopped  as 
he  spoke  and  turned  toward  the  others  ;  and  his  eyes 
rested  very  angrily  on  the  lad. 

"  It's  better  to  have  a  horse-laugh  than  a  snake-bite," 
retorted  Guy,  without  much  point,  but  with  a  good 
deal  of  anger.  "If  you  weren't  such  a  scrimp  of  a 
chap — " 

"  Guy,"  exclaimed  Margery,  interrupting  him,  and 
speaking  in  a  tone  which  Guy  knew  too  well  to  resist. 
"Come,  Godfrey,"  she  added,  turning  away  to  him, 
to  walk  with  him  through  the  rooms  to  the  garden. 

Nan  for  the  moment  was  puzzled  what  to  do.  She 
had  seen  his  anger,  and  the  look  he  had  directed  at 


404  tTbe  (Greatest  Gift. 

Guy  showed  her  an  expression  on  his  face  which 
frightened  her.  She  had  seen  him  angry  before,  but 
the  suspicions  had  been  roused  in  her  now  gave  es- 
pecial force  to  her  fears,  and  recalling  Dallas's  injunc- 
tion not  to  leave  the  two  alone,  she  went  after  them 
and  linked  her  arm  in  Margery's. 

Godfrey  seemed  to  her  to  resent  her  action,  and 
bent  a  long,  scrutinizing  look  upon  her. 

"You  seem  in  a  great  hurry  to  prevent  Margery 
being  alone  with  me,  Nan,"  he  said  angrily.  "Do 
you  want  to  make  me  feel  the  difference  now  that  the 
engagement  is  at  an  end  ?  You  are  a  very  zealous 
sister." 

There  was  a  nasty  sneer  in  the  words. 

"  Nothing  could  be  farther  from  my  thoughts,  God- 
frey," answered  Nan.  "Madge  and  I  were  together, 
that's  all." 

"You  mean  I  am  an  interloper,  do  you?  Thank 
you." 

"No,  no  ;  I  mean  nothing  of  the  kind,"  answered 
Nan,  "  of  course  I  do  not.  There  is  enough  trouble 
in  all  this,  without  our  setting  to  work  to  quarrel  with 
'each  other." 

"Enough  trouble,"  repeated  the  cripple,  snapping 
out  the  words.  "So  far  as  I  can  see  none  of  you 
find  much  trouble  in  it.  You  all  seem  glad." 

"You  will  read  it  all  differently  some  day,  "answered 
Nan  soothingly,  "  when  there  has  been  time  to  let  the 
first  shock  pass  over." 

"  You  find  the  pleasure  so  great  as  to  be  a  shock, 
then,"  he  said,  very  bitterly.  "You  are  worse  than 
Guy,  with  his  hobble-de-hoy  laughter." 


ttfoe  Greatest  (Bift  405 

"  Do  not  let  us  speak  of  this  subject  at  all.  It  pains 
me,"  said  Margery. 

"It  did  not  seem  to  pain  you  very  much,  when  I 
spoke  of  it  and  Alan  Ramsay  just  now,"  replied  God- 
frey, almost  brutally,  and  with  a  very  forbidding  and 
angry  look. 

At  this  Margery  blushed,  and  the  sight  of  her  con- 
fusion increased  the  cripple's  anger.  He  seized  her 
arm,  looked  into  her  face  and  seemed  as  if  about  to 
say  something  ;  but  then,  with  a  sudden  gesture  of 
swift  passion,  he  threw  her  arm  from  him,  and  left  the 
two  sisters,  with  hurried  and  excited  steps. 

Margery  gazed  after  him  pityingly  ;  but  Nan  was 
angry  at  his  treatment. 

"  He  is  brutal,"  she  said  impulsively. 

"  He  is  beside  himself  with  trouble,  Nan,  "answered 
Margery  gently.  "  He  is  not  like  other  people." 

"No,  that's  very  true,"  said  Nan  dryly.  "  But  what 
angered  him  was  your  blush  when  he  mentioned 
Alan's  name.  You  did  blush,  sis-sis,"  she  said,  with 
sweet  significance.  And  then  added,  inconsequently 
as  it  seemed,  "I'm  very  glad,"  and  she  kissed  her. 

Margery  understood  her. 

The  incident  with  Godfrey,  however,  had  the  effect 
of  increasing  Nan's  uneasiness  ;  and  her  vigilance  did 
not  slacken  the  whole  day. 

In  the  evening,  Godfrey  came  down  into  the  draw- 
ing-room and  sat  silent  and  moody,  with  his  eyes 
fixed  constantly  on  Margery.  The  captain  was  very 
nervous  and  silent  also— very  ill  at  ease  ;  but  espe- 
cially tender  and  gentle  to  Margery.  He  kept  her  close 
to  his  side  the  whole  time  he  was  in  the  room  j  and 


406  ftbe  (Breatest  (Bift, 

when  she  played  and  sang  to  him,  he  went  and  sat 
close  to  the  piano.  It  seemed  as  if  he  could  not  do 
too  much  to  make  plain  his  love  and  care. 

Nan  sat  as  far  from  observation  as  possible,  with 
some  work  on  her  lap  with  which  she  appeared  to  busy 
herself.  £>u!  in  reality  her  eyes  rarely  strayed  from 
Godfrey  or  Margery  ;  and  all  the  time  she  was  racking 
her  thoughts  to  try  and  hit  upon  the  probable  course 
which  Godfrey  would  adopt,  if  he  really  meant  to  do 
anything.  When  they  all  went  to  bed,  it  seemed  to 
Nan's  now  unduly  active  imagination  that  Godfrey's 
excitement,  masked  and  suppressed  as  it  was  beneath 
an  outward  appearance  of  gloomy  dejection,  increased 
considerably.  His  eyes  followed  Margery,  in  every 
movement  seeming  to  rest  upon  her  with  troubled, 
speculative  agitation. 

She  was  struck,  moreover,  by  what  happened  when 
Godfrey  and  the  captain  parted  for  the  night.  Nan 
overheard  what  passed. 

"Goodnight,  father,"  said  Godfrey,  laying  a  white 
hand  in  his.  "The  saddest  day  of  my  life  this." 

"  Good  night,  lad.  How  cold  your  hand  is,  and 
trembling.  Do  you  feel  ill,  boy  ?  " 

"All  will  be  well  to-morrow,"  was  the  reply,  spoken 
with  a  tone  of  such  intense  melancholy  that  Nan  was 
struck  by  it. 

"  You  will  do  your  duty — like  my  son  ?  "  asked  the 
captain,  holding  the  cripple's  hand,  and  looking 
thoughtfully  and  questioningly  and  kindly  into  his 
face. 

Godfrey  knew  that  he  referred  to  the  marriage  with 
Esther  Southerst. 


Ube  Greatest  0fft.  407 

"You  shall  never  have  to  complain  of  me  after  to- 
morrow, father,"  and  as  he  spoke  he  stooped  and 
kissed  the  captain's  hand. 

As  the  captain  went  away,  Nan  saw  the  sadness  that 
gathered  on  his  face  and  darkened  it.  But  the  expres- 
sion on  Godfrey's  as  he  looked  after  the  old  man,  went 
straight  to  the  girl's  heart  and  chilled  her.  By  a  flash 
of  intuition  she  seemed  to  read  in  h.is  face  the  thought 
that  lay  beneath  his  words.  He  meant  to  die  that  night. 

As  this  thought  occurred  to  her,  she  felt  herself  grow 
pale  and  shiver  as  she  linked  her  arm  in  Margery's  and 
looked  at  Godfrey.  The  latter  sighed  heavily  as  he 
turned  to  the  girls  and  bade  them  good  night. 

They  went  up  the  broad  staircase  together,  and  he 
stood  watching  them  from  the  hall  beneath  till  they 
reached  the  corridor  along  which  their  rooms  were, 
side  by  side. 

''I  am  fanciful  to-night,  Marge,"  said  Nan,  as  they 
reached  Margery's  room.  "I  feel  nervous  and  cold, 
and  I  don't  know  what.  I  wish  you'd  come  and  sleep 
with  me." 

"  I  mustn't  encourage  notions  of  that  sort,  little 
sister,"  said  Margery,  with  a  smile,  as  she  kissed  her, 
Despite  her  pity  for  Godfrey,  whose  sorrow  was  plain 
enough  to  her,  she  could  not  but  feel  a  strange  sense 
of  relief  that  the  engagement  was  broken,  and,  in  her 
quiet  way,  much  happiness.  "You  must  fight  your 
nervousness  down." 

"But  I'm  low-spirited,  too,"  pleaded  Nan.  "And 
to-night  I  should  like  to  have  you  with  me." 

"  But  I  don't  like  your  bed,  Nan.  It's  so  hard  and 
so  small.  Come  and  sleep  with  me." 


408  TTbe  Greatest  Gift 

Nan's  object  was  to  get  her  away  from  her  room  for 
that  night,  and  thus  she  continued  to  urge  her.  But 
Margery  did  not  yield,  and  at  length  Nan  gave  way, 
and  went  to  her  room  to  make  arrangements. 

As  she  passed  from  one  room  to  the  other  she  saw 
some  one  standing  at  the  end  of  the  great  corridor  by 
the  staircase.  She  went  quickly  to  the  spot  and  found 
Godfrey. 

"  What  do  you  want,  Godfrey?"  she  asked,  with 
quick  suspicion  in  her  tone,  then  adding,  in  a  different 
voice,  "Can  I  get  you  anything?'"' 

"No,  no,"  he  answered,  with  some  hesitation.  "I 
— I  have  left  my  book  down-stairs,  and  am  going  to 
fetch  it.  I  cannot  sleep  to-night.  I — I  want  some- 
thing to  read.  But  you — why  are  you  not  in  your 
room?  "  and  Nan  thought  she  could  detect  suspicion 
in  the  question. 

"  I  was  saying  good  night  to  Margery,"  she  replied, 
purposely  misleading  him.  "  Good  night." 

She  went  back  to  her  room  more  disturbed  than 
ever,  and  made  haste  to  Join  Margery.  When  she 
went  into  the  bedroom,  she  closed  the  door,  and  then 
found  there  was  no  key  in  the  lock. 

"Have  you  no  key  to  your  door,  Marge?"  she 
asked. 

The  other  laughed. 

"Key,  Nan  ?  Yes,  dear,  of  course.  But  I  never  use 
it.  Are  you  afraid  of  burglars  ?  Come  along  into  bed." 

Nan  forced  up  a  laugh  in  reply.  But  she  was  fright- 
ened. It  might  be  no  more  than  a  coincidence  ;  but 
on  the  other  hand  it  might  be  that  some  one  had  taken 
the  key  away. 


Ube  Greatest  Oift  409 

"I  sha'n'tbe  a  minute,  sis-sis, "said  Nan  ;  and  then, 
feigning  an  excuse  for  a  minute's  delay,  she  placed  a 
chair  in  such  a  position  that  the  door  on  opening  must 
move  it,  and  on  it  she  put  a  small  glass  vase,  which 
would  fall  to  the  ground  at  the  least  movement  of  the 
chair.  She  did  all  this  without  letting  Margery  see 
her,  and  then  got  into  bed. 

The  two  sisters  chatted  for  a  few  minutes  till  Nan, 
pretending  to  be  very  tired,  feigned  sleep.  She  was 
anxious  that  all  should  be  still  in  the  room  that  she 
might  lie  and  listen  for  any  sound  in  the  house. 

It  was  a  dreary  vigil  ;  and  the  strain  on  the  girl's 
nerves  made  it  the  more  irksome.  Fancy  cheated  her 
fifty  times  into  a  belief  that  some  one  was  moving  in 
the  corridor  outside  the  room;  and  many  times  she 
lifted  her  head  to  listen. 

Once  or  twice,  when  Margery  was  sleeping  soundly 
and  peacefully,  she  stole  gently  out  of  bed  and  crept 
to  the  door  to  make  sure  that  everything  was  as  she 
had  left  it. 

The  time  passed  on  leaden  wings. 

The  hall  clock  chimed  every  quarter,  and  it  seemed 
almost  impossible  to  Nan  that  the  hours  could  be  so 
long.  She  counted  each  stroke  with  painstaking  eager- 
ness, and  longed  for  the  daylight  to  come,  as  she  had 
never,  even  in  nights  of  pain  and  childish  sickness, 
longed  for  it  before  in  her  life. 

At  length,  and  as  it  seemed  quite  suddenly,  a  heavy 
sleepiness  came  on  her,  and  she  had  to  fight  against 
an  overwhelming  desire  to  sleep.  At  this  she  got  out 
of  bed,  and  leant  her  head  against  the  brasswork  of 
the  bedstead,  and  even  against  the  wall,  that  the  cold 


410  trbe  Greatest  (Sift. 

touch  on  her  hot  face  and  forehead  might  keep  her 
awake. 

Then  in  a  moment,  more  suddenly  than  it  had  come, 
all  trace  of  her  sleepiness  had  left  her.  She  heard  dis- 
tinctly a  movement  of  the  door  handle.  She  gathered 
closely  round  her  the  dressing-gown  she  had  thrown 
over  her  shoulders,  and  went  and  stood  close  to  the 
door. 

Being  on  the  alert,  she  felt  there  was  no  need  for  the 
"trap"  she  had  laid,  and  softly  and  silently  she  took 
away  the  glass  vase  and  waited.  Her  heart  beat  with 
feverish  speed  ;  and  her  eyes,  now  grown  accustomed 
to  the  darkness,  were  fixed  on  the  door. 

Gently,  and  by  almost  imperceptible  degrees,  the 
handle  was  turned  from  without,  and  each  slight  grat- 
ing sound  sent  a  thrill  through  her. 

Then  the  door  was  pushed  slowly  open  inch  by  inch, 
each  movement  being  followed  by  a  pause  on  the  part 
of  the  intruder.  As  it  touched  the  chair  and  moved  it, 
the  efforts  ceased  for  a  moment,  and  all  was  as  still  as 
the  grave. 

Nan  could  almost  hear  her  heart  beat. 

At  that  moment,  Margery  moved  in  the  bed  with  the 
sigh  of  a  heavy  sleeper,  to  which  the  sound  of  her  reg- 
ular breathing  succeeded. 

At  this,  the  efforts  recommenced  from  without,  and 
with  the  same  infinitely  scrupulous  care,  a  hand  was 
thrust  into  the  room,  and  the  chair  was  pushed  aside. 

Nan,  even  in  the  comparative  darkness,  could  rec- 
ognize the  long,  white,  thin  fingers  as  those  of  the  crip- 
ple; and  she  knew  that  the  moment  for  action  had  come, 
and  that  the  worst  forebodings  had  been  fulfilled. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

NAN  hesitated  what  course  to  take.  Hitherto  she 
had  thought  only  of  the  need  to  frustrate  whatever  plan 
Godfrey  might  have  formed  to  do  Margery  an  injury  ; 
but  now  that  the  moment  for  action  had  come,  she 
was  conscious  of  something  more  that  must  be  done. 
She  must  try  to  act  so  that  no  one  in  the  house  but 
herself  and  Godfrey  should  know  of  the  attempt.  In 
the  rush  of  ideas  and  plans  that  came  upon  her,  curi- 
ously, her  thoughts  rushed  to  Dallas.  What  would  )-e 
wish  her  to  do  ?  And  as  if  in  answer  to  that  thought, 
an  idea  suggested  itself.  When  the  chair  had  been 
moved,  Godfrey  waited  before  opening  the  door  further 
to  enter  the  room,  as  if  to  assure  himself  that  he  was 
not  overheard.  It  was  in  that  moment  that  Nan 
formed  her  plan.  It  was  simple  enough.  Just  to  wait 
until  he  entered  the  room,  and  then  speak  as  if  nothing 
at  all  had  happened.  A  full  minute  passed  before  the 
door  was  pushed  open  wide  enough  to  let  Godfrey 
enter.  As  he  did  so,  Nan  said  in  a  whisper  : 

"  What  is  it,  Godfrey,  dear?  Are  you  ill?"  And 
she  went  and  stood  in  front  of  him. 

The  sudden  appearance  of  Nan,  fully  dressed  as  it 
seemed  to  him,  startled  him  so  that  he  could  do  noth- 
ing for  a  moment  but  stare  at  the  girl  in  motionless 
wonder.  Then  he  pressed  both  his  hands  to  his  face 

411 


412  Ube  Greatest  Gift 

and  staggered  back  into  the  corridor  Nan  followed 
him. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Godfrey  ?  Are  you  ill,  dear  ?  " 
she  repeated,  closing  the  door  behind  her,  that  Margery 
might  not  be  disturbed.  ' '  Don't  wake  Margery.  She's 
not  very  well. " 

There  was  a  lamp  always  burning  in  the  hall,  and 
the  light  of  it  came  up  through  the  broad  well  stair- 
case. Godfrey  went  toward  the  staircase  slowly,  and 
Nan  followed,  keeping  always  between  him  and  the 
room  door.  When  they  reached  the  balustrade,  he 
took  hold  of  it  as  if  to  steady  himself,  and  turned  to 
look  at  Nan,  who  was  now  quite  calm  and  cool. 

"What  were  you  doing  in  that  room?"  he  asked, 
pain  and  anxiety  making  his  voice  husky  and  dry. 

"  I  was  watching  Margery,  Godfrey,"  answered  Nan 
steadily,  as  she  looked  fixedly  at  him. 

"Ah!  "  It  was  half  gasp,  half  cry,  and  he  started 
back  almost  as  if  she  had  struck  him.  Then  he  asked 
from  between  lips  that  shivered  with  cold  or  fear, 
"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"That  I  was  afraid  for  Margery,"  said  Nan  again, 
resolutely. 

He  seized  her  wrist  suddenly  and  turned  on  her 
fiercely. 

"Do  you  mean — ?"  he  began,  in  an  angry  whisper. 

Nan  did  not  quail,  but  returned  his  look  with  one 
quite  as  firm  as  his,  while  she  quietly  unclasped  his 
fingers  from  her  wrist. 

"  You  are  not  well,  Godfrey,  dear.  Not  yourself. 
Go  back  to  your  room  and  think  no  more  of  this. 
Think  what  would  happen  if  all  the  house  Mrere  roused 


Greatest  Gift  413 

now.  Good  night,  dear,"  and  she  bent  and  kissed 
him. 

Her  quiet  self-possession  conquered  him. 

"You  have  saved  me,  Nan,"  he  exclaimed  passion- 
ately, and  seizing  her  hand  he  pressed  it  to  his  lips, 
and  rushed  away. 

Then  Nan  walked  quietly  back  to  Margery's  room, 
and  had  just  time  to  tear  off  her  dressing-gown  and 
wake  Margery,  saying  she  was  not  well,  before  the 
reaction  came,  and  she  fainted. 

Before  Nan  had  recovered  sufficiently  to  enable  Mar- 
gery to  go  to  sleep  again,  the  dawn  had  broken,  and 
the  girl  felt  that  there  was  no  longer  any  cause  for 
alarm.  Her  fear  once  passed,  gave  place  to  an  in- 
tense longing  for  Hugh  Dallas  to  come,  that  she  might 
have  some  one  to  tell  of  all  that  had  happened,  and  to 
consult  as  to  what  should  be  done.  He  arrived  before 
noon,  and  when  he  heard  the  news,  looked  very 
grave. 

"You  managed  splendidly  and  bravely,  Miss  Nan," 
he  said,  with  the  thoughtful  smile  the  girl  knew  so 
well ;  and  she  colored  with  pleasure  at  the  praise. 
"  It  was  a  crisis  which  might  have  tried  the  strongest 
nerves  and  beaten  the  longest  head." 

"What  is  to  be  done  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  will  see  Mr.  Godfrey,"  he  answered.  "  He  must 
go  away." 

"Shall  you  tell  him  what  I  have  told  you?  "  The 
thought  frightened  her. 

"I  must,  I  think.  But  you  need  have  no  more 
fears.  We  are  allies,  you  know ;  firm  allies  now, 
again  ;  and  I  shall  not  leave  my  stanch  ally  in  the 


414  Ube  Greatest  Gift 

lurch.     I  shall  stay  here,  if  I   may,  until  the  crisis  is 
passed.     You  would  like  me  to  stay,  Miss  Nan  ?  " 

The  girl's  head  was  downcast,  and  she  did  not  an- 
swer in  words  ;  but  the  rapid  glance  she  gave  was 
more  eloquent  than  words,  and  made  him  think  of 
what  Esther  Southerst  had  said. 

Impulsively  he  held  out  his  hand  to  take  hers.  Just 
then  the  sound  of  approaching  footsteps  interrupted 
him  and  stayed  the  words  which  were  almost  framing 
themselves  on  his  lips.  They  were  together  in  the 
sanctum,  and  some  one  was  coming  through  the  larger 
library. 

It  was  Godfrey,  and  as  he  entered,  he  looked  search- 
ingly  and  suspiciously  at  both  of  them. 

"I  heard  you  were  here,  Mr.  Dallas,"  he  said,  as 
they  shook  hands. 

"Yes.  I  have  come  purposely  to  see  you,"  replied 
Dallas. 

Nan  left  the  room  hurriedly,  and  Dallas,  who  held 
the  door  for  her  to  pass,  smiled  encouragingly  to  her 
and  whispered,  "Courage." 

Then  he  turned  to  Godfrey. 

"You  have  broken  faith  with  me,  Mr.  Godfrey,"  he 
said. 

"What  do  you  mean  ? "  asked  the  cripple,  with  quick 
alarm  in  his  face. 

"You  remember  the  conversation  we  last  had,  and 
the  promise  you  gave.  And  you  know  what  has  since 
happened." 

"The  promise  I  gave  I  recalled  in  my  letter.  If  you 
had  wanted  to  see  me,  you  could  have  come  yesterday. 
But  you  are  here  now.  What  is  it  you  want  to  say  ?  " 


Greatest  $ift  415 

Hugh  Dallas  held  out  his  hand  without  speaking ; 
but  Godfrey  drew  back,  affecting  not  to  see  the  ges- 
ture. 

"  I  want  you  to  put  your  hand  in  mine,  as  a  sign  of 
friendship,"  said  Dallas  kindly. 

"  I  am  in  no  mood  for  heroics,"  answered  the 
cripple. 

"  Nor  am  I.  I  was  never  in  more  deadly  earnest 
in  my  life  ;  never  more  anxious  to  keep  to  the  plain 
common-sense  of  a  very  ugly  situation.  Miss  Nan 
has  told  me  what  happened  last  night.  It  was  I  who, 
in  fear  of  the  letter  which  has  since  reached  me, 
warned  her  to  be  on  the  watch.  It  is  because  I  knew 
of  the  danger  that  I  am  here  now." 

"  I  don't  know  what  cock-and-bull  story  Nan  may 
have  made  up.  Nor  do  I  care,"  answered  Godfrey, 
with  a  sneer.  "  But  there  is  little  use  in  listening  to  a 
girl's  hysterical  nonsense.  At  least,  I  am  in  no  mood 
to  take  any  notice  of  it,  whatever  you  may  be,"  and 
he  laughed  unpleasantly,  and  yet  uneasily. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  deny  what  happened  last  night, 
then  ?  " 

"How  can  I  deny  what  I  have  not  had  described 
to  me  ? " 

"You  know  perfectly  well  what  Miss  Nan  had  to 
say  and  has  said,"  replied  Dallas  firmly.  "She  has 
told  the  truth." 

"Of  course,"  sneered  Godfrey.  "  She'd  be  sure  to. 
Every  one  does,  who  speaks  against  me  in  this 
house." 

"  You  do  not  seem  to  understand  how  painful  to  me 
such  an  interview  as  this  must  be.  I  had  hoped  for  a 


416  ,  Ube  Greatest  (Bit't 

very  different  reception.  But  at  all  events  what  I 
have  to  say  can  be  briefly  said.  You  promised  me 
that  you  would  make  no  attempt  on  your  own  or  any 
other's  life  until  you  had  given  me  time  to  see  you. 
That  pledge  you  have  broken.  Last  night  you 
planned  an  attempt  on  Miss  Allingham's  life;  and  the 
attempt  was  only  thwarted  by  her  sister's  vigilance, 
after  a  warning  from  me.  I  don't  mention  this  for 
any  other  purpose  but  one,"  he  continued,  taking  no 
notice  of  an  attempted  protest  and  interruption  by 
Godfrey.  "That  is — to  determine  what  is  to  be  done 
in  the  future." 

The  cripple  had  turned  to  the  window  and  made  no 
reply,  but  stared  out. 

Hugh  Dallas  went  and  stood  by  him. 

"  Godfrey,"  he  said  kindly,  "I  am  a  friend.  Treat 
me  as  one  and  remember  our  last  conversation." 

Godfrey  shrugged  his  shoulders  contemptuously, 
and  half  glanced  round,  with  somewhat  of  a  sneer  on 
his  face. 

"You  have  no  reason  to  sneer  at  me,"  said  Dallas. 
"Think  what  would  have  been  the  position  of  matters 
here  this  morning  if  I  had  not  taken  precautions  ?  " 

"To  the  devil  with  all  this  melodramatic  nonsense," 
cried  the  cripple,  with  sudden  passion.  "You  come 
here  with  your  insinuations  that  I  am  a  murderer,  or 
some  such  nonsense,  and  then  go  on  maundering  and 
fooling  about  a  lot  of  supposed  consequences  among  a 
lot  of  drivel  about  friendship.  You  and  I  read  friend- 
ship in  a  different  light,  Mr.  Dallas." 

"Remember  your  attempts  on  Esther  Southerst," 
said  Dallas  sternly,  "and  be  thankful  you  have  been 


Ube  Greatest  Oift.  417 

foiled  in  this  last  and  worst  attempt  on  Miss  Ailing- 
ham." 

"  Pshaw,  nonsense,  man  !  You  let  your  imagina- 
tion run  away  with  your  wits.  My  patience  is  out. 
If  you've  nothing  more  to  say  but  rubbish  of  this  kind, 
founded  on  the  lies  of  a  wanton,  I  will  not  stay  here 
to  listen  to  it.  You  all  seem  to  think  that,  because  I 
was  fooled  by  a  woman,  you  can  all  insult  me  just  as 
you  please.  I'll  have  no  more  of  it,"  and  he  turned 
to  leave  the  room. 

"Very,  well,  then,  I  have  only  one  course  left," 
said  Dallas.  "  At  any  cost,  I  must  tell  Captain  Drury 
all  I  know." 

At  this,  Godfrey,  who  had  half  opened  the  door  to 
go  out,  closed  it  again,  and  came  back. 

"  What  is  the  alternative  to  that?"  he  asked,  very 
pale,  and  manifestly  very  ill  at  ease,  but  yet  trying  to 
hide  his  feelings  under  a  sneer. 

"There  is  but  one  alternative,"  answered  Dallas 
firmly.  "You  must  leave  here  for  a  time,  and  at 
once,  and  remain  away  until  the  feelings  which  you 
now  have  for  Miss  Allingham  have  passed  over." 

"  You  forget,"  sneered  Godfrey,  "  you  forget  that  my 
my  father  intends  me  to  marry  the  woman  Southerst  ?" 
"No,  I  forget  nothing.  But  I  bear  in  mind  what  is 
necessary  for  Miss  Allingham's  safety.  Think,  man, 
think,  what  it  is  you  have  planned  to  do,"  he  cried 
earnestly.  "In  the  desire  to  satisfy  your  own  evil 
wishes,  you  are  willing  to  stab  every  happiness  of 
every  soul  who  loves  you  here." 

The  appeal  made  not  the  slightest  impression  on 
Godfrey,  though  it  seemed  that  some  form  of  mental 
27 


418  Ube  Greatest  Gift 

struggle  was  going  on  within  him.  He  remained  silent 
for  some  time,  and  then,  looking  up,  fixed  his  eyes  on 
Dallas's  face,  and  asked  in  a  tone  that  sounded  low, 
cold,  and  sad  : 

"  If  I  agree  now,  will  you  consent  never  to  tell  my 
father  ;  never,  under  any  circumstances,  and  what- 
ever may  happen  ?  Will  you  swear  it  ?  " 

"My  word  is  enough.  You  have  it,"  answered 
Dallas. 

"I  agree,  then,"  he  replied.  "lam  going  to  my 
room  ;  you  will  find  me  there — when  you  want  your 
prisoner.  No,  I  won't  shake  hands.  One  thing  you 
must  do,  go  and  explain  to  my  father  why  I  am  leav- 
ing. " 

He  left  the  room  and  Dallas  followed,  and  from  the 
larger  room  watched  him  mount  the  staircase  in  the 
direction  of  his  own  room.  Then  Dallas  rang  the  bell, 
and  asked  the  servant  to  tell  the  captain  he  wanted  to 
see  him  particularly.  Captain  Drury  came  at  once, 
and  Dallas  was  pained  to  see  how  the  sorrow  was 
cutting  him. 

The  captain  was  very  glad  to  see  Dallas,  and  greeted 
him  with  a  warm  and  cordial  hand-clasp,  which  the 
younger  man  returned  with  a  sympathetic  pressure. 

"You  have  no  bad  news  to  tell  me,  I  hope,"  said 
Captain  Drury.  "I  am  afraid  all  this  trouble  has 
shaken  me  ;  for  I  find  myself  constantly  dreading  to 
hear  of  more  trouble. " 

"No;  I  think  not.  I  only  want  to  speak  to  you 
about  your  son,  captain.  I  have  a  plan  that  I  should 
like  to  talk  over  with  you." 

"Apian?     You  know  all  that  has  happened,   and 


Ube  Greatest  Gift.  419 

that  he  has  consented  to  do  justice  to  Esther  South- 
erst  ? " 

"Yes;  I  know  that.  I  am  not  going  to  propose  any 
interference  with  that— any  permanent  interference. 
But  I  am  going  to  propose  some  slight  alteration.  I 
hope  you  will  say  it  is  an  improvement." 

"What  is  it?  "  asked  the  captain  dubiously.  "I 
have  made  up  my  mind  that  he  must  go  through  with 
what  I  told  him.  He  must  marry  her." 

' '  I  want  you  to  think  carefully  about  his  present 
frame  of  mind.  Do  you  think  there  can  be  any  chance 
of  either  of  them  finding  any  happiness  in  such  a  mar- 
riage ? " 

"Do  not  seek  to  turn  me  from  that  decision,  Mr. 
Dallas,"  said  the  captain,  promptly  and  decisively. 
"It  is  useless." 

"  I  do  not  seek  to  do  that,  captain.  Let  me  explain. 
Your  son's  state  of  mind  is  such  just  now  that  I  fear 
grave  danger  might  result  from  an  attempt  to  push 
forward  too  rapidly  any  plan  of  that  kind.  I  am  not 
speaking  without  having  carefully  thought  of  this,  and 
without  serious  reason  for  what  I  say.  You  have  told 
me  his  history,  and  the  reason  of  the  fits  of  morbidness 
which  pain  us  all.  I  think  then  that  there  should  be 
some  interval  in  which  he  should  be  weaned  away 
from  brooding  upon  all  that  has  happened.  No,  do 
not  decide  until  you  have  heard  me,"  he  said  as  the 
captain  shook  his  head.  "I  myself  am  going  to  take 
my  holidays  almost  immediately.  Let  him  come  to 
me  to  Middlingham  until  I  can  get  away,  and  then  we 
will  have  a  ramble  together  over  the  Continent ;  and  I 
will  try  to  get  his  thoughts  away,  and  to  interest  him 


420  Ube  Greatest  Gift. 

in  literary  work.  From  talks  I  have  had  with  him,  I 
do  not  despair  that  something  might  be  done  and  some 
good  come  of  it.  I  know  he  has  had  an  inclination 
towards  work  of  the  kind.  And  work  with  occupation 
is  the  finest  mental  treatment  for  a  disease  such  as  his." 

The  captain  made  no  reply,  but  began  a  sort  of 
quarter-deck  march  up  and  down  the  room. 

"If  once  he  could  be  led  to  take  an  interest  in  some 
creative  work  of  the  kind,  the  battle  would  be  half 
won,"  continued  Dallas.  "All  these  moody  thoughts 
would  be  turned  in  a  safe  direction  ;  and  the  sor- 
row would  prove  only  an  experience,  which  would 
strengthen  instead  of  weakening  his  mind.  This 
gloomy  analysis  would  cease  to  be  so  distressing  a 
self-concern,  and  life  would  have  once  more  a  promise. 
It  has  hitherto  been  all  self  with  him  ;  and  his  power- 
ful imagination  has  been  a  curse  instead  of  a  blessing, 
because  it  has  enlarged  the  torture-chamber  of  his 
morbid  self-thoughts." 

"But  what  of  this — woman?  What  delay  do  you 
propose?  I  don't  like  delay  where  justice  has  to  be 
done." 

"She  has  been  content  to  wait  a  long  time,  and,  at 
any  rate,  a  few  weeks  or  months  would  not  hurt  her. 
If  anything  can  be  done,  that  would  be  long  enough. 
There  is  no  danger  in  delay  in  such  a  matter.  On  the 
contrary,  there  is  much  hope.  At  all  events,  we  can 
but  try." 

And  in  this  way  Hugh  Dallas,  little  by  little,  adduc- 
ing reason  after  reason,  gradually  won  the  captain  to 
see  the  prudence  of  his  plan,  till  the  latter  consented 
to  it. 


Ube  Greatest  Gift  421 

"God  grant  you  may  be  successful,  Mr.  Dallas,"  he 
said,  very  fervently,  at  the  close  of  the  interview.  "I 
need  not  say  what  I  think  of  your  kindness  and  friend- 
ship in  thus  trying  to  come  to  the  lad's  rescue  from 
himself.  I  hope  I  may  repay  it  some  day  in  some 
way." 

"Perhaps  sooner  than  you  think,"  answered  Dallas, 
smiling.  "  It  may  be  that  after  all  you  will  find  I  am 
only  moved  by  a  selfish  motive — a  desire  to  make  my- 
self quite  secure  of  your  good-will  for  a  project  that  I 
shall  want  your  consent  to." 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  asked  the  captain,  looking  up  in 
great  surprise.  "  But  whatever  it  is,  you  were  sure  of 
it  before  this,"  he  added  warmly. 

"To-day  I  am  not  speaking  of  myself,  but  of  God- 
frey," replied  Dallas.  "But  when  the  time  comes 
— if  it  comes — I  may  remind  you  of  that  last  promise. " 

"I  will  keep  my  word,  be  sure  of  that,"  cried  the 
captain,  wringing  the  other's  hand.  "  When  will 
Godfrey  go  ? " 

"To-day,  when  I  go.  He  is  waiting  for  me  in  his 
room.  I  will  go  to  him  now." 

He  ran  up-stairs  to  Godfrey's  room,  but  found  it 
empty.  Glancing  round  it,  he  saw  a  note  on  the  table 
addressed  to  him. 

He  tore  it  open  quickly,  feeling  vaguely  alarmed 
and  uneasy  at  Godfrey's  absence. 

' '  I  cannot  stay  in  the  house.  I  cannot  breathe  in 
it.  I  am  going  out.  That  I  may  keep  my  word  to 
you  in  the  spirit  if  not  the  letter,  I  am  going  for  a  sail. 
On  my  return,  I  shall  be  found  here." 

Involuntarily  Dallas  looked  round  the  room  to  see 


422  Ube  Greatest  Gift. 

if  there  were  any  signs  by  which  he  could  judge  of 
the  other's  motive  in  going  out.  Everything  seemed 
in  order.  He  looked  out  of  the  window,  and  then  saw 
that  clouds  were  moving  quickly  across  the  sky,  while 
the  trees  were  swaying  beneath  violent  gusts  and 
squalls  of  wind. 

He  went  down-stairs  looking  very  serious.  In  the 
hall  Mrs.  Rudyer  and  the  two  girls  were  standing. 

"  Good  morning,  Hugh,"  said  the  widow.  "How 
solemn  you  look.  You  might  be  a  burglar  caught  in 
the  very  act." 

Hugh  Dallas  felt  too  serious  to  take  any  notice  of 
this  ;  though  her  flippancy  had  never  seemed  more 
like  impertinence.  He  shook  hands  with  Margery 
and  the  widow,  and  then  turned  at  once  to  Nan. 

"Will  you  give  me  a  word,  Miss  Nan  ?  "  he  said. 

"What  has  happened?"  she  asked,  seeing  by  his 
manner  that  something  really  grave  was  disturbing 
him. 

"Have  you  seen  Godfrey  anywhere  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  the  girl. 

"  He  was  to  wait  for  me  in  his  room.  I  have  ar- 
ranged that  he  shall  go  away  from  here  with  me  at 
once.  He  will  go  to  Middlingham,  and  then  with  me 
to  the  Continent  for  a  week  or  two,  till  the  worst  of 
the  matter  here  has  passed  over. " 

"  I  understand,"  answered  Nan,  with  sympathetic 
quickness.  "  You  are  very  good." 

"But  he  was  not  in  his  room,  and  has  left  a  note 
saying  he  could  not  stay  in  the  house,  but  would  go 
out  in  the  Flirt.  I  am  uneasy  about  it,  and  I  don't 
like  it.  Can  he  manage  the  boat?  " 


(Greatest  Gift  423 

"Yes.     But  here  comes  Guy,  he  will  tell  us." 

"Hallo,  Mr.  Dallas,  how  are  you?  I  say,  isn't  that 
fellow  Crips  a  queer  chap  ?  He  hasn't  been  for  a  sail 
for  I  don't  know  how  long ;  and  here  he  goes  and  picks 
out  a  beastly  squally  day  like  this,  with  the  wind 
blowing  a  capful  outside  the  bay.  He  is  a  mad  jack- 
ass. It  isn't  safe  to  sail  a  yard  except  under  double 
reefs,  and  I'm  hanged  if  he  hasn't  gone  scooting  off  all 
alone  in  the  boat  with  a  whole  mainsail  and  foresail, 
and  he  tried  all  he  knew  to  get  old  Mat  to  clap  on  the 
biggest  jib  in  the  hold  ;  only  he  wasn't  such  a  maniac 
as  to  do  anything  of  the  kind.  I  call  it  a  regular  sin 
to  go  and  risk  a  jolly  little  craft  like  the  Flirt  in  such 
an  infernally  reckless  manner — to  say  nothing  of  the 
beggar's  own  life." 

His  two  hearers  exchanged  looks. 

"  Let  us  go  down  to  the  shore,''  said  Dallas  to  Guy  ; 
and  on  the  walk  he  questioned  the  lad  more  closely. 

"Was  he  alone?" 

"Rather.  Crips  can't  bear  to  have  any  one  in  the 
boat.  Thinks  it  shows  he  don't  know  how  to  handle 
her.  But  he  does.  He  can  do  more  with  her  than  I 
can.  I  wouldn't  go  out  in  her  alone  to-day  without  a 
couple  of  reefs  in  the  mainsail,  I'm  hanged  if  I  would, 
for  a  fiver.  But  he  went  without  turning  a  hair.  He 
was  as  cool  as  a  'cumber,  though  old  Mat  mutinied 
and  swore  it  was  suicide ;  and  wouldn't  set  the  sails 
without  the  reefs.  But  as  soon  as  Mat  was  in  the  dingy, 
and  Crips  had  got  off  a  bit,  he  brought  her  head  to  the 
wind  and  shook  out  the  reefs  himself.  My,  but  old 
Mat  was  mad  :  and  crikey,  you  should  have  heard  him 
swear." 


424  Ube  6reate0t  6ift. 

On  the  shore  there  were  two  or  three  sailors  stand- 
ing together,  watching  a  white  dot  far  out  at  sea.  It 
was  the  mainsail  of  the  Flirt. 

"  She  won't  come  back,  sir,"  said  old  Mat,  shaking 
his  head,  and  turning  the  quid  in  his  mouth  as  he 
spoke.  "She's  a  stiff  enough  craft,  and  Master  God- 
frey's known  how  to  handle  her  ever  sin'  he  were  no 
higher  than  this  post.  She  may  be  right  enough  while 
she's  runnin',  for  he's  a  rare  hand  at  the  tiller ;  but  if 
he  tries  to  bring  her  to  with  all  that  canvas  on  her, 
and  one  o'  them  squalls  catches  her,  why,  bless  ye, 
she'll  jist  roll  over  like  a  porprus  ;  jest  like  a  porprus. 
And  I  know  the  boat,  don't  I,  mates,  if  any  one  do?" 

' '  Aye,  aye,  Mat. " 

"  I  tell  ye,  I'd  rather  a  giv  any  thin',  than  a  set  them 
sails.  I  might  jest  as  well  a  sewn  up  Master  Godfrey's 
shroud  at  once.  And  if  I'd  known  what  fool's  game 
he  was  after,  I'd  a  taken  a  ax  and  cut  the  blessed 
mast  down  to  the  deck.  She'll  never  stand  them  gusts. 
It  stands  to  reason  she  can't  with  all  that  spread  o' 
canvas.  She'll  never  come  back.  That's  my  view. 
Poor  Master  Godfrey,  he  must  a  been  mad  to  try  a 
game  like  that  on." 

And  he  was  right. 

The  Flirt  was  recovered  bottom  upwards  by  those 
whom  Dallas  sent  out  at  once  to  try  and  get  to  God- 
frey's rescue ;  and  the  cripple  himself  was  found  en- 
tangled in  some  of  the  boat's  cordage. 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 

ONE  afternoon,  some  weeks  after  Godfrey  Drury's 
death,  Hugh  Dallas  sat  in  his  office  reading  a  letter 
and  awaiting  a  visitor.  His  face  wore  a  look  of  quite 
unusual  sternness  and  anger.. 

The  letter  was  from  Captain  Drury,  and  ran  as  fol- 
lows : 

' '  MY  DEAR  YOUNG  FRIEND,  — We  have  altered  our 
plans  again — at  least,  my  two  girls  have  insisted  upon 
changing  them,  and  are  acting  just  like  the  arch-con- 
spirators they  are.  They  pretend  they  cannot  stand 
the  climate  of  dear  old  England  in  October,  and  insist 
on  my  taking  them  to  the  south  of  France.  Of  course 
it  is  they  who  are  taking  me ;  and  all  their  pretense 
about  the  climate  is  just  a  fear  that  I  may  be  unable 
to  bear  the  Manor  House  so  soon  after  my  poor,  dear 
lad's  death.  They  are  both  bad  diplomatists  ;  for  they 
were  never  in  more  vigorous  health  in  their  lives.  But 
I  don't  tell  them  I  can  see  through  their  plot :  for  I 
have  an  idea  they  like  to  serve  this  love-trick  on  their 
old  uncle.  At  any  rate,  we  shall  not  come  home  yet, 
though  I  am  longing  to  set  my  eyes  on  the  lad's  last 
resting-place.  Poor  Godfrey  !  Poor  boy  !  It  was  a 
sad  end,  that  just  when  his  resolves  had  turned  to  do 
justice,  accident  should  have  stepped  in  to  thwart 
him." 

425 


426  Ube  Greatest  Gift, 

' '  Ah,  if  it  was  accident,  captain, "  interpolated  Dallas, 
lowering  the  letter  a  moment.  "If — but  he  knew  too 
well  what  he  was  doing  for  that  to  be  accident.  Still, 
the  captain  doesn't  know  :  no  one  knows  but  Nan  and 
I," — he  called  her  "Nan  "  now  in  his  thoughts — "and 
he  never  shall  know  the  truth.  Odd,  that  almost  the 
only  unselfish  act  of  the  poor  fellow's  whole  life  should 
be  the  manner  in  which  he  chose  to  quit  it." 

"  But  so  it  is,"  resuming  the  reading  of  the  letter. 
"  God  works  just  in  those  inscrutable  ways,  and  called 
him  before  repentance  even  had  had  time  to  pall. 
But  the  purpose  of  this  letter  is  in  reference  to  the  un- 
fortunate Esther  Southerst.  I  think  you  are  right.  I 
had  better  not  see  her,  though  I  should  have  done  so, 
had  I  returned  at  once  to  Seacove.  Will  you  see  her, 
then,  and  make  any  arrangement  you  think  right?  I 
will  do  whatever  you  decide.  I  should  like  to  leave 
this  matter  entirely  in  your  hands,  with  only  one  con- 
dition— be  generous.  Remember  she  is  a  woman, 
and  can  never  now  have  justice  done  to  her,  as  it 
should  have  been,  had  the  lad  lived.  Remember  this, 
and  be  generous.  As  for  ourselves,  we  are  going  to 
dawdle  away  a  few  months  along  the  Riviera,  and 
shall  probably  loiter  until  we  can  go  to  Rome  for 
Easter.  You  cannot  think  what  my  two  darlings  are 
to  me.  Sweetness  and  Light,  I  call  them.  Madge  all 
gentleness  and  care  and  solicitude  ;  Nan  all  bright- 
ness and  radiance  ; — and  both  all  love.  We  often 
speak  of  you  ;  and  Madge  often  expresses  a  wish  that 
you  could  be  with  us.  I  wish  the  same.  But  I  sup- 
pose it  cannot  be,  By  the  way,  you  know  of  course 


(Greatest  Oift.  437 

that  Alan  is  coming  out  to  join  us,  having  promised 
his  brother  a  run  on  the  Continent  with  our  Guy. 
We  are  all  glad  of  this,  and  Nan  seems  especially 
pleased  at  the  thought  of  seeing  Alan.  Both  my  pets 
send  messages  to  you. 

"Your  sincere  old  friend, 

"JOHN  DRURY. 

"  P.  S.  — Remember,  be  generous. " 

"Kind  heart,"  murmured  Dallas,  as  he  finished. 
"  'Sweetness  and  light,'  eh  ?  Well,  not  a  bad  term  for 
them.  So  Margery  would  like  to  have  me  out  there, 
and  Nan  is  especially  glad  that  Alan  is  going  out. 
What  an  innocent  old  soul  it  is  !  " 

He  laughed,  and  all  the  sternness  left  his  face,  giv- 
ing place  to  a  smile  of  peculiar  significance  and  pleas- 
ure, as  his  thoughts  traveled  away  to  Nan.  But  the 
dark  look  came  back  again  when  an  office  lad  came  to 
announce  that  someone — a  lady — wished  to  see  him. 

It  was  Esther  Southerst,  to  whom  he  had  written  as 
soon  as  he  had  had  the  letter  from  the  captain. 

She  came  in  demurely  and  quietly,  dressed  all  in 
black,  with  crape  on  her  jacket  and  dress,  and  wear- 
ing a  widow's  bonnet.  She  glanced  round  the  room 
as  if  she  had  expected  that  a  third  person  would  be 
present.  Finding  Dallas  alone,  she  seemed  uncertain 
what  part  to  attempt  to  assume.  He  gave  her  no  hint 
of  how  he  would  receive  her,  but  let  her  sit  down  be- 
fore he  said  a  word.  They  had  not  met  since  God- 
frey's death. 

"It  is  all  very  sad,  Mr.  Dallas,"  she  said  at  length, 


428  tlbe  Greatest  (Btft 

looking  at  him  somewhat  searchingly.  And  then 
when  he  made  no  answer  she  added,  "  You  wanted  to 
see  me  ? " 

"  Yes.  I  have  been  asked  by  Captain  Drury  to  see 
you  and  to  make  such  arrangement  with  you  as  will 
be  right  and  fair.  I  will  read  you  what  he  says,  so 
that  you  may  see  his  wishes  for  you  and  my  right  to 
speak  in  his  name." 

He  read  the  passage  in  the  letter,  and  her  face 
brightened  considerably  at  the  word  "generous." 

"  He  is  truly  a  good  man/'  she  said,  giving  a  sigh 
of  relief  or  satisfaction. 

"There  is  one  thing  which  it  is  necessary  you 
should  bear  in  mind.  He  does  not  know  you — I  do." 
He  said  this  very  dryly,  and  the  woman  blushed.  "  This 
letter  is  written  in  the  belief  that  you  are  what  he 
thought  you  were  when  he  saw  you  here.  I  had  in- 
tended to  enlighten  him,  and  for  this  purpose  had 
arranged  for  the  man  whom  you  hunted  to  death  to 
come  to  me  for  a  time.  But  death  interfered  with  the 
plan,  and  I  never  opened  my  lips." 

"  Hunted  to  death  !  "  echoed  the  woman.  "  How 
do  you  mean  ?  That  Godfrey  made  away  with  him- 
self?" 

"  I  mean  that,  whatever  was  your  motive,  your  work 
has  been  more  complete  than  you  expected,  however 
great  your  enmity  may  have  been  to  the  dead,"  said 
Dallas  sternly.  "  I  mean,  also,  that  when  the  captain 
tells  me  to  deal  generously  with  you,  I  mean  it  to  be 
'generously,'  considering  what  I  know  of  you.  You 
probably  do  not  expect  much,  as  it  is." 

Esther  Southerst  sighed  again  very  deeply,  and  then, 


tTbc  Greatest  Gift  429 

in  a  voice  which  she  made  sorrowful  and  melancholy, 
she  replied  : 

"  Poor  Godfrey's  death  has  cut  me  up  so  that  I  haven't 
had  time  to  think  of  anything  else." 

"  All  the  better,"  returned  Dallas  shortly,  disgusted 
with  what  he  knew  to  be  her  hypocrisy.  "  Then  you 
won't  have  had  time  to  form  any  great  expectations  ?  " 

"  True,  quite  true,"  she  answered  ;  "  for  I  have  al- 
ways been  comforted  by  the  thought  that  that  good  old 
man  would  do  me  justice,  and  that  in  the  last  extremity 
I  could  go  to  him  for  consolation  and  help.  ' 

"  Very  nice,  Miss  Southerst,"  said  Dallas.  "  Very 
nice,  indeed,  and  very  well  acted  ;  but  it  doesn't  im- 
pose on  me,  and  what  is  more  important,  it  won't  have 
a  chance  of  imposing  on  the  captain.  You  mean  me 
to  understand,  of  course,  that  if  I  don't  do  all  that  you 
would  like,  you  will  go  and  act  the  weeping  Magdalene 
at  his  feet,  and  play  on  his  feelings.  But  it  won't  do. 
During  the  last  two  months  since  poor  Godfrey  died, 
I  have  had  more  than' one  inquisitive  individual  asking 
questions  about  the  manner  of  life  you've  been  living 
in  the  last  year  or  two.  No  matter  what  I've  found 
out,  I  know  enough  to  open  Captain  Drury's  eyes  very 
effectually — enough  to  warrant  us  in  turning  you  adrift 
altogether.  I'm  not  going  to  have  any  false  delicacy 
with  you,  nor  any  beating  about  the  bush.  You  had 
the  whip-hand  of  the  poor  young  fellow  who's  dead 
and  gone,  and  you  used  the  lash  unmercifully.  I  shan't 
be  as  hard  with  you  ;  but  I'm  not  going  to  play  at  pre- 
tending to  believe  in  your  sorrow.  So  long  as  you 
behave  yourself  properly,  and  so  long  as  you  keep  at 
least  a  hundred  miles  between  yourself  and  Seacove, 


430  Ube  Greatest  Gift 

you  shall  have  a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  a  year. 
Break  the  conditions,  or  communicate  with  Captain 
Drury,  or  even  attempt  to  let  any  one  at  Seacove  know 
of  your  existence,  and  the  allowance  shall  cease.  If 
you  refuse  these  terms,  I  shall  tell  Captain  Drury  all  I 
know  about  you,  and  you  won't  get  a  brass  farthing-. 
You  can  take  your  choice." 

The  woman  listened  very  attentively  to  this,  and  at 
the  close  laid  aside  all  her  pretense  of  sorrow.  When 
he  spoke  of  having  learnt  the  details  of  her  life,  she 
started,  and  shot  some  very  quick,  sharp  glances  at  him. 

"  No,  I  don't  accept  your  offer  of  hush-money.  It's 
not  enough.  If  you  know  anything  of  my  life,  you 
know  I'm  dependent  only  upon  my  own  work  for  my 
living,  and  I  will  go  and  live  close  to  the  Manor  House 
gates  and  tell  the  people  who  I  am  ;  and  leave  them 
to  judge  whether  Godfrey's  widow  ought  to  be  left  to 
starve  or  to  earn  her  living  by  her  needle." 

"Very  good,"  said  Dallas  firmly.  "Then  there's 
no  need  for  this  interview  to  continue.  What  I  have 
offered  you  is  infinitely  more  than  you  deserve.  If 
you  prefer  nothing,  you  shall  have  it — and  have  it  with 
the  addition  of  a  good  deal  of  unpleasantness  of  which 
you  don't  seem  to  think." 

"  I'll  take  two  hundred,"  said  the  woman  suddenly. 

"After  to-day,  you  will  only  have  an  offer  of  a  hun- 
dred," answered  Dallas  ;  and  at  this  reply  she  left  the 
room  suddenly  as  if  in  anger. 

"She'll  take  it,"  said  Dallas,  smiling  to  himself  as 
he  turned  to  his  table  again.  "  She's  good  at  bounce, 
but  she'll  take  it ;  it's  more  than  she  deserves,  and  she 
knows  it." 


Ube  Greatest  Oift.  431 

The  thought  had  scarcely  formed  itself  into  words 
before  his  door  was  opened  again  hurriedly,  and  Esther 
Southerst  came  back. 

"  I'll  take  your  offer,  Mr.  Dallas.  "You've  beaten 
me  again,"  she  said.  "  What  are  your  conditions? " 

"You  can  take  a  month  to  choose  where  you  will 
live,  and  then  write  to  me  and  tell  me  ;  and  I  will  see 
that  arrangements  are  made  for  the  money  to  be  paid 
to  you  regularly.  If  you  like  to  leave  the  country  and 
settle  in  the  colonies,  you  shall  have  two  hundred  a 
year.  The  latter  is  what  I  should  advise." 

And  it  was  the  latter  course  that  Esther  Southerst 
adopted.  Hugh  Dallas  thus  being  able  to  write  to  the 
captain  a  few  weeks  later,  and  announce  that  she  had 
sailed  for  Australia. 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

"  WHAT  does  he  say  ?     Any  luck  ?" 

"No  ;  not  a  bit.  It's  just  the  usual  yarn.  Waiting 
for  letters  ;  and  the  weather  not  good ;  and  wants  us 
to  see  the  place  at  its  best.  That's  a  likely  yarn,  eh  ?  " 

"Ha,  I  should  think  so,"  replied  Guy  Allingham, 
with  a  snort  of  skepticism,  as  Donald  Ramsay  made 
this  reply.  "  I  call  it  beastly  rot.  He  brought  us  out 
to  see  the  Continent,  not  to  hang  about  round  those 
girls'  petticoats." 

The  lads  were  in  a  condition  of  half  rebellion  against 
Alan,  who  had  brought  them  out  for  a  scamper  across 
the  Continent.  After  about  two  weeks'  touring,  Alan 
had  made  straight  for  Nice,  where  Captain  Drury  and 
the  two  girls  were  staying,  and  had  made  excuse  after 
excuse  for  not  leaving. 

"I  don't  care  for  this  place  either,  do  you?" 

"Oh,  the  place  is  all  right,  so  far  as  any  place  can 
be  on  the  Continent ;  but  we  don't  want  to  keep  stuck 
up  in  one  town.  The  girls  are  all  right  at  Seacove, 
but  we  don't  want  'em  here.  They're  a  nuisance," 
said  Guy,  with  the  superiority  of  a  brother. 

"Alan  don't  think  so,"  said  Don,  with  a  guffaw. 

"Alan  doesn't  think  what?"  said  Alan  Ramsay, 
himself  coming  unexpectedly  up  to  where  they  were 
sitting. 

433 


Ube  Greatest  Gift,  433 

"Why,  you  don't  think  Nice  is  dull,"  said  Don, 
looking  up  and  laughing  meaningly. 

"Well,  you  don't  either,  do  you?"  replied  Alan, 
smiling  in  reply.  "What  I  want  you  two  to  do  is  to 
get  to  work  and  have  a  steady  week  or  fortnight  grind- 
ing hard  at  French.  You'll  do  a  lot  more  keeping  in 
one  place  than  moving  about." 

"  H'm,"  coughed  Guy,  inTiis  high  falsetto.  "  That's 
awfully  good  of  you,  Alan.  Especially  when  I  heard 
you  or  somebody  say  the  other  day  that  Nice  French 
was  as  bad  as  any  in  Europe.  If  it's  our  French  that 
keeps  you  a  fixture,  let's  go  back  and  stop  in  Paris,  and 
get  a  Parisian  accent.'' 

Both  the  boys  laughed. 

"Hallo!  That's  rather  a  chalk  up  against  you, 
Alan,"  cried  Don.  "You'll  have  to  find  another 
reason." 

"One  would  think  you  found  the  Continent  dull, 
like  a  couple  of  blase  old  fops  on  the  pounce  for  ex- 
citement to  give  a  fillip  to  your  jaded  appetites,"  said 
Alan. 

"Oh,  the  Continent's  right  enough,"  answered  Guy, 
in  a  patronizing  tone,  "except  for  the  churches — and 
the  English  girls,"  he  added.  "  One  would  think  there 
was  nothing  else  to  be  seen,  considering  the  time  we've 
given  to  hanging  about  both." 

Alan  laughed  at  this  good-naturedly. 

"You'd  better  not  let  the  captain  hear  you  talk 
against  the  English  girls,  Guy.  But,  now,  to-day  I 
came  in  to  propose  an  excursion  for  you  two.  I  can't 
go  with  you,  I  have  some  letters  to  write,  and  some 
business  to  see  about." 

22 


434  ttbe  Greatest  6fft 

Guy  coughed  again  at  this,  but  Alan  took  no  notice. 

"You  can  climb  up  to  the  old  Roman  road,  and 
make  out  the  way  to  Monaco.  I'll  meet  you  at  the 
Grand  there,  and  we'll  have  dinner,  and  then  come 
back  by  train  together.  What  say  you  ?  " 

"  That'll  suit  my  book,"  cried  Guy.  "But  I  wish 
you'd  come,  Alan,"  and  Don  joined  in  the  request,  for 
they  both  liked  him,  and  liked  to  have  him  with  them. 
He  persisted  in  refusing,  however,  repeating  the  excuse 
he  had  made  before. 

"Drat  the  girls,"  said  Guy;  "I  know  that's  what 
it  is.  I'll  just  give  them  a  jolly  good  wigging  when  I 
can  get  them  alone.  This  place  is  a  blessed  Capua 
for  making  softies  of  men."  And  with  this  parting 
shot  he  disappeared. 

After  the  two  lads  had  gone,  Alan  sat  on  for  some 
few  minutes  writing  a  short,  very  short  letter,  and  then 
began  to  grow  fidgety.  He  got  up  and  went  to  the 
window,  and  looked  out  into  the  gardens  of  the  hotel, 
and  whistled  a  tune  to  himself  very  softly. 

"Glad  I  got  rid  of  them  for  the  whole  day,"  he 
whispered  under  his  breath.  "Now,  if  I  can  only  get 
a  chance,  I'll  bring  things  to  a  climax.  Here  they  are, " 
he  exclaimed  suddenly,  as  he  saw  Captain  Drury  and 
the  two  girls  leave  the  door  of  the  hotel  together,  and 
then  he  hastened  after  them. 

Margery's  face  brightened  when  Alan  joined  them, 
and  they  all  walked  together  through  the  hotel  gardens 
and  out  to  the  sea  front,  many  people  looking  with 
interest  at  the  girls,  whose  black  mourning  dresses 
formed  a  somber  setting  to  their  bright  faces  and  flash- 
ing eyes, 


Ube  Greatest  (Bift.  435 

After  a  time  they  met  an  old  navy  captain,  between 
whom  and  Captain  Drury  a  chatting  acquaintance  had 
been  made,  and  the  two  old  sailors  walked  together 
talking  over  matters  of  common  interest. 

In  this  way  the  other  three  were  left  together,  and 
then  Nan,  with  one  of  her  subtle  instincts,  guessing 
what  Alan  wished,  slipped  away  and  rejoined  the 
captain. 

Alan  himself  could  not  have  planned  matters  to  suit 
him  better ;  but  then,  as  soon  as  he  was  alone  with 
Margery,  he  began  to  feel  awkward  and  tongue-tied. 

"  Where  are  the  boys  ? "  asked  Margery. 

"  Gone  to  Monaco  by  the  upper  road.  I'm  going  to 
meet  them  there  to-night.  I  thought  perhaps  we 
might  all  go  over  and  dine  there.  They're  getting 
restless,  I  fancy,  at  stopping  so  long  here." 

"Guy's  a  regular  scamperer,  and  Don's  not  much 
better.  Are  not  you  tired  of  Nice?  "she  asked  inno- 
cently. 

"  Do  you  think  I  should  be?  " 

"  I  should  be,  if  it  were  not  for  uncle,"  she  answered, 
meaning  not  what  her  words  implied. 

"Oh  I  "  And  then  very  significantly,  "  Thank  you. 
/  am  not  likely  to  tire  of  Nice  while  you  are  here, 
Margery." 

"Is  it  far  to  Monaco  along  the  upper  road?"  she 
asked,  irrelevantly  and  self-consciously,  after  an  awk- 
ward pause. 

"Not  far  for  the  boys,"  he  replied,  and  then  they 
were  silent. 

' '  Won't  you  be  glad  to  get  back  to  Seacove  again  ?  " 
he  asked,  breaking  the  silence. 


436  Ube  Greatest  Gift. 

"  Yes,  I  should  like  to  go  away  at  once,  if  it  weren't 
that  I  am  afraid  for  uncle's  sake,  on  account  of  poor 
Godfrey.  I  fear  he  grieves  in  secret." 

"Strikes  me  I'd  better  do  what  the  boys  wish,  and 
not  go  on  with  our  tour.  I'm  not  much  account  here." 

He  was  conscious,  even  while  he  said  it,  of  how 
small  it  would  sound. 

"I  think  you  ought,"  agreed  Margery.  "You 
brought  them  out  for  a  certain  purpose,  and  certainly 
ought  not  to  disappoint  them.  How  far  are  you  go- 
ing to  take  them?  " 

"It  will  be  a  long  time  before  we  meet  again,"  re- 
plied Alan,  annoyed  with  himself  for  not  being  able  to 
direct  the  talk  as  he  wished,  and  half  chagrined  that 
Margery  seemed  to  take  so  little  interest  in  his  move- 
ments. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Alan  ?  "  asked  the  girl,  notic- 
ing then  the  change  in  his  manner.  "  Has  anything 
happened?  Have  the  boys  vexed  you  ?  Guy's  very 
trying  sometimes,  and  you're  not  so  used  to  his  ways 
as  I  am.' 

She  looked  with  a  partly  troubled,  partly  inquiring 
expression  into  his  face. 

"lam  a  fool,  that's  all,"  answered  Alan,  "and 
I'm  only  just  beginning  to  find  it  out."  And  he 
laughed. 

"Have  I  vexed  you,  Alan?"  she  asked.  "I  can 
hear  something  in  that  laugh  that  I  don't  think  ought 
to  be  there.' 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  ?  I  think  I  was  fool  enough  to 
feel  vexed  because  I  wanted  you  to  show  some  inter- 
est in  my  being  here,  and  you  did  not  seem  to  care 


ftbe  Greatest  (Bift  437 

whether  I  went  or  stopped.  In  fact,  you  told  me  to  go. 
I  said  I  was  a  fool. " 

She  did  not  put  her  answer  into  words,  but  looked 
at  him  reproachfully.  He  read  the  look  aright,  and  he 
went  close  to  her  side  and  took  her  hand.  They  had 
wandered  back  into  the  hotel  garden,  and  were  in  a 
little  secluded  nook. 

"Margery,  forgive  me.  I  am  a  brute.  But  I  have 
suffered  so  much  in  all  this,  and  a  great  feat  has  held 
me  lest  that  which  came  between  us  was  after  all  likely 
to  separate  us  even  now,  that — that  the  cause  is  gone. 
You  remember  that  walk  we  had  that  day  in  the  sum- 
mer, when — when  you  hurt  your  foot.  You  remem- 
ber I  told  you  I  was  sure  you  had  good  reason  for  all 
you  did,  and  that  I  should  have  faith  in  you  just  the 
same.  Is  it  nothing  to  you  now  whether  I  go  or  stay 
now  ?  " 

She  glanced  up  to  his  face  again,  and  said  nothing, 
but  did  not  withdraw  her  hand. 

"You  must  give  me  an  answer,  sweetheart,  this 
time.  You  remember  that  afternoon  in  the  rosery — 
the  day  old  Dallas  first  went  over  to  the  Manor  House 
— when  Guy  came  and  interrupted  us.  If  I'd  pressed 
for  an  answer  then  all  this  trouble  would  have  been 
spared  us,  for  you'd  have  been  pledged  to  me,  wouldn't 
you,  my  darling?  " 

He  bent  low  down  to  her,  and  caught  the  faintly 
whispered  "  Yes  "  as  it  fell  from  her  trembling  lips. 

"  We  must  set  the  seal  to  that,  Margery,"  he  whis- 
pered, drawing  her  close  to  him,  and  pressing  his  lips 
to  hers. 

"There's  some   one   coming,"  she  whispered  hur- 


438  tTbe  6reatest  (Bit't 

riedly,  after  a  moment,  as  the  sound  of  footsteps  ap- 
proaching was  heard. 

"I  don't  care  if  all  the  world  comes;  they  could 
only  see  what  all  the  world  may  see,  that  I  love  you 
and  you  love  me." 

They  turned  away  arm  in  arm,  however,  both  in- 
tensely happy  ;  and  then  suddenly  Margery  laughed 
merrily,  and  blushed  very  prettily. 

"  What  is  it,  Madge  ?  "  aked  her  lover. 

"Why  did  you  send  Guy  and  Don  away  on  such 
an  expedition  to-day  ?  "  she  asked,  her  eyes  dancing 
merrily. 

"  I  see  what  you  mean,"  he  answered,  laughing  in 
his  turn.  "I  didn't  mean  to  have  a  second  edition  of 
the  rosery  interruption.  I  meant  to  make  sure  of  you, 
and  bind  you  to  me  for  ever  and  ever,  sweetheart. 
Now,  if  any  one,  even  the  captain,  wants  you  to 
sacrifice  yourself  again,  you'll  have  to  get  my  leave 
first,  Madge,  and  that's  the  only  thing  I'll  never  give 
you." 

She  pressed  his  arm,  and  nestled  closer  to  him  than 
before,  very  lovingly  and  tenderly,  for  she  knew  by 
this  that  he  had  understood  the  reason  of  her  engage- 
ment to  Godfrey. 


CHAPTER   XXXVII. 

"  Do  you  think  uncle  looks  much  better,  Mr.  Dallas  ? ;' 

"  Not  only  looks  better,  Miss  Nan,  but  I  am  sure  he 
is  much  better — better  in  body,  better  in  mind,  and 
better  in  spirits.  He  is  like  a  man  who  has  been  carrying1 
a  load  all  his  life,  and  finds  it  drop  from  his  shoulders." 

"  How  ?  "  and  Nan  turned  questioningly  to  her  com- 
panion. 

"  You  mean  why  the  loss  of  one  he  loved  so  much 
should  promise  to  prove  a  joy  rather  than  a  sorrow. 
There  was  always  a  flaw  in  his  love,  a  fear  in  his  life 
you  never  knew  the  cause  of,  and  he  is  too  brave  a 
soul  ever  to  have  let  it  appear.  But  poor  Godfrey's 
future  was  always  a  problem  of  which  he  could  never 
think  without  pain  and  apprehension.  His  death  was 
the  one  right  solution,  and  the  captain  will  see  this  as 
soon  as  the  pain  has  passed;  indeed,  he  is -beginning 
to  see  it  now.  And  you  both  have  helped  him  to  fight 
down  the  pain." 

"It  pained  him  infinitely  to  come  home  though,"  re- 
turned Nan.  "And  when  Madge  and  I  went  with  him 
to  the  grave,  I  thought  he  would  have  broken  down.  I 
have  never  seen  him  so  moved.  Poor  uncle  !  Yet  I 
could  see  then  that  he  was  trying  to  force  himself  to 
think  that  it  was  for  the  best.  There  never  was  such 
a  Christian  as  uncle ;  never  a  man  so  staunch,  loyal, 
heart-whole  in  his  implicit  faith  in  God's  goodness. 

439 


440  Ube  Greatest  (Bift. 

But  you  have  shed  a.  new  light  on  his  conduct  that  day. 
1  believe  he  was  partly  reproaching  himself  as  if  it 
were  a  sin  in  him  to  think  it  best  that  the  problem,  as 
you  call  it,  of  Godfrey's  life  had  been  solved  by  early 
death.  But  he  has  no  thought  or  suspicion  that  God- 
frey himself  helped  to  solve  it." 

Dallas  looked  at  the  girl  in  some  surprise.  It  was 
the  first  time  they  had  met  to  be  alone  since  the  day 
of  Godfrey's  death. 

"  And  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it.  I  did  not  know  all  that  was 
going  on  at  that  dreadful  time ;  but  you  told  me  a 
great  deal,  and  I  saw  there  was  some  strong  secret 
force  which  drove  him  nearly  mad,  and,  I  think,  that 
day  quite  mad." 

"  Did  you  ever  say  anything  of  this  .  .  .  ?  "  he  be- 
gan. 

"Do  you  think  I  should  give  away  the  confidence 
you — I  mean,  anyone — placed  in  me?  No,  of  course  I 
said  nothing.  But  you  know  well  enough  that  I  am 
right." 

He  made  no  answer  immediately,  but  looked  out 
over  the  sea.  They  were  sitting  together  on  a  ledge 
of  rock  on  the  face  of  the  cliff. 

After  a  pause  he  smiled  and  turned  his  face  to  her 
with  a  pleased  light  in  his  eyes. 

"  You  were  a  staunch  ally,  Miss  Nan,  and  quick,  too, 
at  drawing  conclusions.  But  not  always  the  right 
ones." 

"Not  the  right  ones?  I  was  right  in  that,"  she  said, 
perplexed  by  his  words,  and  showing  her  perplexity  in 
her  look. 


tTbe  Greatest  <Bfft  441 

"  I  mean  about  Mrs.  Rudyer." 

She  blushed. 

"  What  of  her?     I  think  I  was  right  about  her." 

"Why  did  you  think  she  wanted  to  break  up  the 
alliance?"  he  asked,  smiling  again. 

"Where  is  she  ?  "  asked  Nan,  glancing  up  rapidly, 
and  then  dropping  her  eyes  as  quickly. 

"She  is  in  London,  I  think." 

"  Have  you  seen  her  lately  ?  Margery  has  not 
heard  from  her  for  a  long  while,  'and  she  doesn't  write 
to  me,"  and  Nan  laughed. 

"  Odd,  that.  I  heard  that  she  was  going  to  be  mar- 
ried again — not  from  herself,  so  it  may  be  correct — but 
I  have  only  seen  her  once  since  you  went  away.  I 
was  in  London  on  business,  and  chance  threw  us  to- 
gether. I  only  saw  very  little  of  her,  just  a  few 
minutes'  conversation  ;  but  it  seems  to  have  been  ef- 
fectual, for  when  I  got  back  to  Middlingham,  I  had  a 
letter  from  her,  short,  pithy,  and  pointed,  saying  simply 
that,  after  what  had  passed  between  us,  there  was  only 
one  thing  she  devoutly  prayed  for,  and  that  was  that 
she  might  never  see  me  again  as  long  as  she  lived." 
Nan  laughed  again.  It  pleased  her  to  hear  this. 

"You  must  be  a  very  terrible  person  when  you  are 
in  that  kind  of  mood  ;  for  what  you  said  here  seemed 
to  have  no  effect  upon  her. " 

"  I'm  better  as  an  ally  than  an  opponent,  you  think, 
Miss  Nan  ? "  he  said,  his  voice  a  grade  lower  in 
tone. 

"I  have  had  no  experience  of  you  as  a  foe.  But 
if  you  are  as  strong  an  opponent  as  you  are  a  firm 
ally,  I  would  rather  have  you  on  my  side." 


442  Ube  Greatest  Oift 

''Could  you  bear  with  me  always  not  only  on  your 
side  but  at  your  side  ;  as  a  life-long  ally?  "  he  asked. 

Nan  looked  up  laughingly. 

"Is  it  very  dangerous  to  refuse  alliances?"  she 
asked. 

"Very,"  said  Dallas,  smiling  as  he  took  her  hand. 

"Then  I'd  better  surrender,"  and  she  let  him  draw 
her  close  to  him. 

"My  darling,"  he  whispered,  as  he  kissed  her. 
"  My  ally  in  earnest  now,"  he  said. 

"But  not  to  be  crushed  out  of  all  shape  and  knowl- 
edge, sir,"  she  said,  as,  covered  with  blushes,  she 
drew  back  from  his  embrace,  and  laughed  merrily. 

The  captain  was  delighted  when  he  heard  the  news  ; 
and  looked  pleased  and  light-hearted. 

He  laughed  and  kissed  Nan,  and  shook  Dallas  by 
the  hand,  and  pinched  the  girl's  blushing  cheeks  and 
called  her  a  sly  little  fox  for  having  cheated  him. 

"And  have  I  been  such  a  blind  noodle  all  this  time 
as  not  to  see  what  was  going  on  ?  Well,  well.  It's 
time  somebody  else  took  the  helm  with  these  young 
cutters,  or  I  shall  be  steering  them  into  mischief." 

He  had  the  two  girls  one  on  each  arm  then,  and  he 
kissed  them  each  in  turn  ;  and  they  clung  to  him  lov- 
ingly, both  smiling  and  blushing. 

"Please  God,  you'll  all  be  happy — as  happy  as  I 
would  wish  you  to  be ;  as  happy  as  you  have  made 
me."  He  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  two. 
girls  as  he  spoke.  "  Here,  Alan,  here,  Hugh,"  and  as 
he  spoke  he  held  out  a  hand  of  each  of  the  blushing 
girls.  "Take  them.  1  only  make  one  condition. 


Ube  Greatest  0ift.  443 

Let  me  see  as  much  of  them  as  you  can  ;  just  at  first, 
to  ease  the  parting." 

"  Oh,  uncle,  as  if  we  were  going  to  leave  you  alone  ! 
You're  not  going  to  get  rid  of  me  so  easily,  I  can  tell 
you  !  "  cried  Nan,  laughing. 

Margery  said  nothing,  but  moved  back  to  his  side 
and  slipped  her  arm  through  his,  and  nestled  close  to 
him. 

"It's  the  law  of  Nature  and  the  command  of  God, 
my  dears,"  he  said  simply,  understanding  Margery's 
action  as  readily  as  Nan's  words.  "And  who  am  I  to 
set  myself  and  my  thoughts  and  stubbornness  against 
His  ways  and  His  will?  The  edge  of  the  sword  of 
sorrow  has  been  turned  by  the  violence  of  the  blow 
struck  at  me,  and  my  old  years  look  calmly  at  what 
would  stir  your  young  blood.  You  must  not  stay 
events  for  my  sake.  God  bless  you  both — you,  Mar- 
gery, and  you,  too,  Nan.  You  have  beenjunspeakable 
blessings  to  me  ;  and  you  have  both  chosen  as  I  would 
have  had  you  choose — now. " 

The  last  word  was  little  more  than  a  whisper ;  but 
then  it  seemed  to  strike  him  that  it  might  jar,  or  seem 
unkind,  and  he  turned  to  Alan,  and  took  his  hand  and 
shook  it  warmly. 

"  God  bless  you,  Alan  !  You  will  make  Margery  a 
loyal  husband,  and  me  a  good — son." 

They  all,  knowing  what  lay  behind  the  words  and 
the  act,  loved  him  for  the  kindly  thought.  Then  he 
laughed  again  as  he  took  the  girls'  arms. 

"What  a  lucky  old  sea-dog  I  am,"  he  cried,  "to 
have  two  such  daughters,  and  then  to  find  two  such 
sons  to  match  them  and  make  them  happy  !  " 


444  Ube  Greatest  Offt. 

And  all  the  afternoon  and  evening  he  was  in  the 
same  kindly,  happy  mood,  laughing  and  chatting  with 
one  and  another ;  getting  the  girls  to  sing  to  him,  and 
cracking  all  the  well-seasoned,  old-fashioned  jokes  he 
could  think  of. 

But  when  the  two  lovers  had  left  and  the  girls  had 
gone  to  bed  he  stepped  out  into  the  keen  spring  night  air 
to  smoke.  And  when  he  was  quite  alone,  he  thought 
over  all  that  was  going  to  happen  and  in  a  vague  way 
began  to  wonder  how  the  old  House  would  seem  when 
he  was  alone  in  it. 

After  a  time  he  went  indoors  again  and  sat  by  the 
fire  in  the  sanctum,  thinking  over  and  over  again  of 
the  changes  that  had  come  to  him.  Godfrey  gone — 
never  to  come  back.  Margery  and  Nan — Sweetness 
and  Light  as  they  had  been  in  the  hour  of  his  trouble 
— going,  to  form  other  associations  and  live  other  lives 
than  that  of  the  past. 

He  could  not  keep  back  the  sigh  which  broke  from 
his  lips  as  he  thought  how  empty  life  would  be  until 
he  had  grown  used  to  the  change. 

Then  a  little,  slim  hand  was  slipped  into  his — a  white, 
soft  arm  encircled  his  neck,  and  Margery,  kneeling  by 
the  side  of  the  low  chair  on  which  he  sat,  was  looking 
up  with  her  sweet,  gentle,  loving  eyes  full  of  a  tender- 
hearted reproach. 

"  You  are  grieving,  uncle.  I  saw  it  to-day.  You 
think  I  am  going  to  leave  you  ;  and  I  have  come  down 
now,  because  I  thought  I  could  catch  you  in  the  act, 
and  try  you  and  condemn  you  and  punish  you  all  at 
the  same  time. "  Her  lips  parted  in  a  loving  smile. 
"You  are  a  very  wicked,  heartless,  cruel  uncle," — she 


Greatest  Gift.  445 

kissed  him  at  every  adjective — "  you  want  to  turn  me 
out  of  your  house  and  I  won't  go.  There,  sir  uncle, 
do  you  hear,  I  won't  go.  And  you  for  your  punish- 
ment are  condemned  to  say  that  you'll  never,  never, 
never  dare  to  think  of  being  parted  from  me  again." 

He  looked  down  at  her,  and  seeing  in  her  eyes  a 
troubled  look,  kissed  her. 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  wish,  Madge,  for  you  are  a  lordly 
little  lawmaker.  But — " 

"  I  will  not  have  '  buts,' "  she  cried,  shaking  her  fin- 
ger at  him.  "  My  marriage  will  make  no  difference. 
Alan  and  I  have  settled  it  all,  and  you  have  only  to 
agree.  Say  you  agree,  uncle." 

"  I  agree,  Madge  ;  but  to  what  ?  " 

' '  To  let  everything  be  as  Alan  and  I  wish  ;  and  never 
to  part  from  us,  until  you  yourself  wish  it." 

"  You  are  a  good  lassie  to  me,  Madge — a  rare  good 
lassie — and  just  as  able  now  as  when  you  were  a  little 
one  to  do  with  me  as  you  will.  For  I  love  you,  my 
lass,  aye,  as  much  as  you  love  me." 

Then  the  girl  threw  both  her  arms  round  him,  and 
drew  herself  on  to  his  knee,  kissed  him  fervently  and 
lovingly,  and  caressed  and  petted  him,  until  the  last 
shadow  of  grief  had  left  his  face. 

THE    KN». 


A  Splendid  Sin 


By  GRANT  ALLEN 
273  PaSes^   size  7%x5i    Cloth*    Three  Stampings,   $z.oo 


The  title  of  this  book  implies  audacity,  and  in  this  it  is 
true  to  its  teachings.  Mr.  Allen's  independent  line  of  thought 
was  never  more  clearly  defined,  and  the  "splendor"  of  the 
sin  really  takes  our  breath  away.  Mr.  Allen  was  always 
perfectly  frank  about  pot  boiling,  and  therefore  took  some 
ground  from  his  critic,  but  he  never  lost  his  power  to  tell  an 
entertaining  story,  no  matter  how  startling  or  improbable  it 
was,  nor  with  what  rapidity  he  dashed  it  off.  "  The  Woman 
Who  Did"  was  a  difficult  heroine  to  accept,  but  even  she  is 
mild  compared  to  Mrs.  Egremont's  achievements  in  the  line 
of  independent  action  in  "A  Splendid  Sin.*'  It  would  be  a 
pity  to  take  the  zest  from  the  reader  by  outlining  the  plot, 
whose  chief  charm  lies  in  its  surprises.  Sufficient  to  say  that 
here  is  a  problem  novel  with  a  vengeance,  and  the  spectacle 
of  an  illegitimate  son  ordering  his  mother's  lawful  husband 
out  of  her  house  in  righteous  indignation  at  his  existence  is 
an  example  of  advanced  thought  rarely  met  with  in  every- 
day life.  —  The  Commercial  Advertiser,  Nov.  18,  1899. 

"A  Splendid  Sin,"  by  Grant  Allen,  has  just  been  pub- 
lished by  F.  M.  Buckles  &  Co.  It  is  one  of  the  latest  works 
written  by  the  noted  author,  of  whose  untimely  death  we 
have  j  ust  learned  .  It  will  be  treasured  as  one  of  his  best 
novels  by  the  large  number  of  readers  who  peruse  with  inter- 
est all  productions  from  his  pen.  It  is  a  study  of  an  act 
which  is  universally  condemned  as  a  sin.  Not  in  itself  as  a 
saving  power,  but  its  disclosure  comes  to  an  illegitimate  son 
as  a  blessing,  making  a  happy  marriage  possible,  and  savin? 
all  concerned  from  disgrace  and  misery.  Even  the  sin  itself 
is  made  to  appear  lovely  and  proper  in  comparison  with  that 
other  sin  which  the  world  readily  excuses,  namely,  the  forc- 
ing of  a  marriage  where  there  is  no  true  love  or  mutual  re- 
spect. It  is  a  story  to  please  by  its  plot  and  action  and  char- 
acter drawing,  and  also  to  set  one  thinking  upon  some  of  the 
serious  problems  of  life. 

—  Evening  Telegram,  N,  Y.,  Nov.  9,  1899. 

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A  Ward  of  the  King 

(An  Historical  Romance) 

By  KATHARINE  S.  MACQUOID 

328  pages,    size  7^x5,    Cloth,    Ink   and   Gold,   $1.25 

This  is  a  story  of  the  times  of  the  great  Constable  of 
Bourbon.  Jeanne  d'Acigne1  is  married  when  a  child  to  the 
Cotnte  de  Laval.  Adventures  and  the  clash  of  steel  are 
things  masculine,  and  the  woman  cannot  put  enough  muscle 
into  her  hard  knocks.  But  perhaps  for  this  very  reason  it 
may  be  commended  to  those  gentler  souls  who  shrink  from 
blood  and  wounds ;  and  it  may  be  also  commended  to  those 
who  are  charmed  by  a  singularly  refined  and  feminine  style 
for  its  own  gracious  sake.—  London  Literary  World. 

"  A  Ward  of  the  King"  is  a  romance  of  the  time  of  the 
Bourbon  kings.  The  heroine  is  the  only  child  of  the  Count 
d'Acign6,  dead  when  the  story  opens  ;  the  heroes,  the  Count 
of  Laval,  whom  she  marries  at  thirteen  at  the  command  of 
the  King  and  her  friend  and  unknown  lover,  Roland,  the 
heir  of  the  Vicomte  d'Orbec — both  noble  men  in  truth. 
The  cousin  of  the  Count  of  Laval,  Etiennede  Retz,  conceived 
a  passion  for  the  Countess  Laval  on  her  wedding  day.  This 
leads  to  the  intrigue  about  which  the  story,  full  of  life  and 
fire,  centers. — The  Outlook. 

Miss  Katharine  S.  Macquoid  in  her  new  book,  "  A  Ward 
of  the  King,"  has  departed  somewhat  from  the  usual  rule  of 
romance  writers.  She  has  taken  for  the  centre  figure  of  the 
story  a  woman  instead  of  a  swaggering  man.  This  notion, 
however,  must  be  commended  by  the  excellent  manner  in 
which  the  authoress  has  transcribed  it. — Boston  Coutier. 

With  the  present  widespread  popularity  of,  and  interest 
in  the  historical  romance,  Katharine  Macquoid's  "  A  Ward 
of  the  King"  is  sure  of  a  hearing.  The  tale  is  worthy  of  the 
encomiums  which  are  being  bestowed  upon  it.  The  story  is 
of  the  Great  Constable  of  Bourbon  ;  its  scenes  and  its  times 
readily  lend  themselves  to  the  play  of  the  romantic  incident 
and  the  weaving  of  skilful  plots .  The  story  is  marked  by  a 
style  of  singular  refinement.—  American,  Nov.  16. 

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